A Light in the Darkness: Eclipsed
by LadyAlambiel
Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?
1. Chapter One: Prelude

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

 _What's Gone on Before_

Shot entering a courthouse in our world, a stranger comes to Narnia one year into the Pevensies' reign. This stranger, Katerina Alambiel, gains the trust of young Queen Lucy even though others suspect she might be a witch. Still, she is allowed to remain in Cair Paravel as a guest. Oreius begins to earn her trust as she earns his. When the evil sorcerer, Jannes, takes Lucy, Katerina Alambiel is accused of being an accomplice even as she crafts a plan to rescue the Valiant Queen. Infiltrating the sorcerer's lair, Katerina Alambiel leaves a trail for Oreius and the Kings allowing them to rescue Lucy. Katerina Alambiel pursues and kills Jannes with Oreius' aid (Full story: _Awakened_ ).

After six months of finding a niche in the daily life and routine of Cair Paravel (Full story: _Shields_ ), Katerina Alambiel is counted as a friend rather than a guest by the Four and by General Oreius. She accompanies High King Peter and Queen Susan on a trip, unaware that another sorcerer intends to frame her as the High King's assassin. Just before parting ways with Susan, dark secrets in Katerina Alambiel's past are revealed. A pair of assassins frames Katerina Alambiel in two attacks on the High King's life before she and a badly wounded Peter are captured by the sorcerer, Jambres. As he tortures them, Jambres reveals that Katerina Alambiel is part Human and part Narnian. Katerina Alambiel interferes with Jambres' attempt to kill Peter, taking the brunt of the spell herself before Oreius and the other Narnians rescue them. Aslan confirms to Katerina Alambiel that she is both Human and Narnian, and that her Narnian heritage is that of Nymph and Centaur due to her mother being the Nymph daughter of a Centaur, before charging her with the task of searching for the identity of her birth family, thereby unlocking the forgotten memories of her early childhood. Katerina Alambiel survives the spell with the addition of two white streaks in the front of her hair as souvenirs and Peter decides to knight her into his chivalric order for her actions (Full story: _Shadowed_ ).

Two years after being knighted Dame Sepphora of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Katerina Alambiel is nearing the end of her search for the identity of her Narnian birth family. While her long-forgotten memories begin to resurface, she runs afoul of Count Hendrik of Sisemaal, one of Narnia's allies. Afterwards, Katerina Alambiel discovers that she was born Alambiel, daughter of Lew the last King of Narnia, and the only survivor of Jadis' massacre of the original royal family. Before Katerina Alambiel can decide how to handle the information, she and King Edmund go on a border patrol but are captured by the vengeful disgraced Count Hendrik and his cousin, Heikki, who leads a group of mercenaries employed by the Witch Medea. As Peter and Oreius lead a huge rescue party to find them, Edmund and Katerina Alambiel are tormented by Medea. Peter and Oreius rescue them just after Medea turns Katerina Alambiel over to Heikki and Hendrik and prepares to kill Edmund. Medea is defeated and her forces routed and scattered. Katerina Alambiel swears Oreius and the four other Narnians who know the truth of her identity to secrecy (Full story: _Revealed_ ).

Two and a half years after the incident with Medea and the Sisemaalian mercenaries, Werewolves and Hags plot to resurrect Jadis through the sacrifice of royal blood. While General Oreius and the Kings are on a diplomatic journey to Archenland, Oreius is forced to reexamine his feelings for Katerina Alambiel. In the absence of the General and the Kings, Katerina Alambiel and Queen Susan are ambushed by Werewolves and Susan is spirited away to be the sacrifice. Katerina Alambiel and her small party pursue the Werewolves but without the aid of the soldiers led by General Oreius and the Kings, Katerina Alambiel offers herself as a trade. With Katerina Alambiel now prisoner of the Fell, the remaining soldiers and Susan finally meet up with the Kings and Oreius. While the injured Susan is rushed back to the Cair and the healing power of Lucy's cordial, Oreius and the Kings seek to rescue Katerina Alambiel before the Fell ceremony on Winter Solstice and the truth of Katerina Alambiel's royal heritage is revealed to the Four. Oreius and the Kings disrupt the ceremony and aid in Katerina Alambiel's escape. Upon returning to the Cair, Katerina Alambiel presents the Four with an edict resolving many potential issues concerning her heritage, which is now common knowledge, but Oreius waits for a better time to reveal to Katerina Alambiel that he cares for her as more than a friend (Full Story: _Concealed_ ).

Almost six months after having her royal heritage become common knowledge, Katerina Alambiel travels as the Princess Royal with General Oreius on a diplomatic mission to the country of Zelaia. On their last night in Zelaia, Katerina Alambiel comes to the realization that she loves Oreius. However, before either one speaks up, they are captured by slavers and sold into the underground world of the Blood Games. Forced to fight by the man who bought them, Katerina Alambiel and Oreius teeter on the brink of despair. They finally escape with another fighter and return to Narnia. Once they recover from their wounds, Oreius and Katerina Alambiel confess their love to each other and are now courting in secret (Full Story: _Rekindled_ ).

A little over five months after Katerina Alambiel and Oreius return to Narnia, they travel with Peter on a diplomatic trip to Telmar. However, due to treachery on part of one of the Lords of the Council of Telmar, the three are forced to end negotiations early and attempt to leave Telmar. Before they can cross the border, mercenaries attack them. Oreius stays behind, allowing Peter and a wounded Katerina Alambiel to escape. Once Katerina Alambiel is in the care of healers, Peter sneaks back into Telmar to discover Oreius' fate. When he finally finds the mercenaries though, he is captured. Tormented by the mercenary leader, Peter is then forced to fight for his and Oreius' freedom. After winning their freedom, the mercenaries once again ambush Peter and Oreius but the fight ends with the mercenary leader dead and Peter gravely wounded. Receiving guidance from an unexpected source, Oreius carries the wounded and, at times, delirious Peter through Telmar and the Western Wilds until they finally return to Narnia. Once he receives the cordial, Peter becomes betrothed to the Beech Nymph, Thalia, whom he's been courting for some time (Full Story: _Lion and Flower_ ), while Oreius and Katerina Alambiel choose to wait to announce their courtship until Peter and Thalia's wedding (Full Story: _Refracted_ ).

A month after Peter and Oreius' return to Narnia, a diplomatic party sets sail for the Seven Isles to represent Narnia at the wedding of the Governor's son. Soon Edmund, Lucy, and Tarrin Peridanson are separated from the rest of their party including Oreius and Katerina Alambiel who are still courting in secret. The search for their missing charges leads them through storms and into the company of a questionable character. Meanwhile, Edmund, Tarrin, and Lucy are unaware that their situation is not all that it seems. When Lucy discovers the truth, matters take a deadly turn and it is a race against time to defeat their hidden enemy. Tarrin Peridanson sacrifices himself to save his King and Queen, but is revived by the cordial upon their return to Narnia. Oreius and Katerina Alambiel's courtship is forced into the open and then Tarrin Peridanson is knighted Sir Delos of the Most Noble Order of the Table (Full Story: _Reflected_ ).

A little under three months after Oreius and Katerina Alambiel's courtship becomes common knowledge, Katerina Alambiel is discovered unconscious and tormented almost to the point of death on Narnia's northern border. When she wakes with no memory, not even of Oreius and their love, the mystery surrounding her abduction deepens while Narnia's enemies plot to use her as the linchpin to destroy Narnia. Oreius and the Kings race to discover what happened to Katerina Alambiel and whether she can still be trusted when she cannot remember them. Oreius also makes the painful decision to conceal the evidence of his and Alambiel's relationship even to the point of letting her go entirely. Eventually Alambiel's memory returns and they rekindle their romance. (Full Story: _Veiled_ ).

After Katerina Alambiel and Oreius marry (Full Story: _Fireworks_ ), a battle between Narnia and Fell forces results in a sorcerer being confronted by Aslan and losing his magic. As Alambiel and Oreius adjust to married life, the sorcerer Markus must choose whether to turn his life over to Aslan or to continue in his destructive ways. The sorcerer's choice and his presence in Cair Paravel disturb many but Alambiel insists he is needed. As months pass, a threat greater than the former sorcerer comes to light and threatens Narnia's peace. Though Oreius maintains a cautious watch over the sorcerer, Markus gains ground with the Queens and grows close to the Gentle in particular. When the true nature of the threat is exposed, Markus regains his magic for one last time and Narnia is saved. (Full Story: _Unveiled_ ).

 ** _A Light in the Darkness: Eclipsed_**

Chapter One: Prelude

"Stop laughing, Peter."

Despite his brother's growl, the High King could not seem to stop. He bent so his face nearly touched his horse's mane, vainly attempting to control his mirth. "But, Ed! They were only out there for three hours. How did they-" He chortled then sat up and grinned, enjoying the way Edmund was fuming. "Ahem. How exactly did the Greybacks manage to dig up the entire western gardens, brother mine?"

Edmund's scowl deepened and his dark eyes flashed with ill humor. "On accident, of course." His brother's new gelding side-stepped, champing at its bit, as it reacted to Edmund's tensing. "It's always on accident with those two. 'We were just trying to get the spy, King Edmund.' 'We didn't mean to dig out a family of seventy Rabbits, King Edmund.' Never mind that I've told them more times than I can count for over four bloody years that we do not have a bloody spying Badger living in the bloody gardens."

Peter grinned over at Oreius. The Centaur so far had managed to keep his expression devoid of mirth although Peter swore there was just a hint of laughter lurking in the General's eyes. "Aren't you glad Philip wasn't around for this, Ed?"

His brother groaned. "Philip going off to visit his herd is only a temporary respite. He's still determined that the Greybacks aren't any good for me."

"Well-"

Edmund abruptly leaned over and gave Peter a hard shove, making him sway in his saddle. "And you are the reason I have them! Every single thing they have done since you gave those green pups to me rightly lies at your feet, Pevensie!"

Peter laughed. "You mean you don't want them anymore?"

His brother's lips compressed into a thin line but he didn't deign to accept the offer to reassign the Wolf twins again. And, despite all Edmund's grumblings and sometimes rants about the inconveniences caused by his Wolves' enthusiastic if not always wise endeavors, Peter doubted his brother would ever willingly part with Romulus and Remus Greyback. No more than he would willingly part with his Tigers.

He met Babur's grin and chuckled again. Then he tried to smother his mirth as he turned back to his brother. "Well, since we only have one more village to inspect, how much work do you think the Greybacks will have accomplished by the time we return to Cair Paravel?"

Edmund snorted. "If they didn't get completely distracted, maybe they've helped with an acre. If I'm fortunate." He looked around then turned to Oreius. "Are you satisfied with the patrol schedule for this section of the northern border recommended last night, General?"

Peter had to bite his lip to keep from snickering at Edmund's rather blunt change of subject. Oreius, of course, managed to maintain his composure just fine. The Centaur gave a curt nod. "Increasing the patrols from monthly to every fortnight will strengthen our presence on the border sufficiently. I will also send additional troops to aid in the villages' work to restock their provisions since everything points to an early winter this year."

"And we'll be home in plenty of time to meet the Calormene delegation that Susan's all worried about with . . . What is this chap's name, Ed?"

"Prince Rabadash, the latest crown prince of Calormene son of the Tisroc (may he have badger-infested gardens forever). Honestly, Pete, he doesn't have that many sons."

"Only seventy," Peter muttered.

"Seventy-three. He acknowledged two toddlers this spring as princes. And you always forget the seventy-first son."

"Exactly how many children does the Tisroc have?"

"No idea. He doesn't bother to count the girls except the one he tried to give you for your birthday last year."

Peter grimaced. What a mess. And worse the Tarkaan assigned to escort the girl had specifically mentioned his and Thalia's lack of sons (because girls wouldn't have been viewed as the blessing they truly were in Calormene thinking) only a few months after Thalia had been terribly hurt by that fool Terebinthian lord who had insinuated only her barrenness could explain their lack of children. The only thing that had stopped him from saying exactly what he thought about the suggestion he should get started forming a royal harem with the Tisroc's daughter promised to give him the "much-needed" heirs in a position of high favor, of course, was Thalia grabbing his shoulder while Edmund skillfully thanked the Tarkaan for the offer but Narnian law prohibited the suggested match.

And then Edmund burned the hotly worded letter of indignation (as he had called it) Peter had penned to the Tisroc the next morn after spending all night comforting his hurting Flower. "We agreed we weren't going to talk about that anymore."

"So we did." Edmund frowned then turned to Oreius. "Kat's not going to try to stab Rabadash, is she?"

The Centaur flicked his tail. "I have not inquired as to her intentions toward the Calormene crown prince."

"Blast. All right, just try not to leave her unsupervised this time. I don't think Kat's scary enough to terrify this particular Calormene into not including how she tried to stab him or shoved him down a hill or pushed him into a fountain." Edmund made a face and Peter knew he was wondering how many visits to the points of the compass Oreius would assign for telling him how to control his wife. "Umm, she usually listens to you."

Oreius' impassive expression did not change even as he raised one eyebrow. "Does she?"

Edmund cleared his throat. "Yes?"

Peter grinned and glanced down at Babur. The large Tiger had paused, his ears flattening against his skull, as he bared his teeth. "Blood and smoke, Sire." The Tiger inhaled deeply then growled low. "And something else."

Edmund and Oreius were both listening, the General looking grim as he signaled the troop to halt. Peter's hand went to Rhindon. "What?"

A whistling sound cut through the air and then Peter clutched at the reins as his horse reared. A boulder the size of a man slammed into the ground just in front of them, flinging up dirt and rocks as it tore an ugly gash through the grass. Peter struggled to control his mount. He could see Edmund having similar troubles. The horses were unused to combat. Oreius was shouting orders.

Then a horrible cracking sound filled the air as trees were shoved aside. Four leering, cruel faces peered down at their party. Peter kicked his feet free of the stirrups and jumped just as one of the Giants swung his club. His poor horse never had a chance to flee.

Peter staggered to his feet and drew Rhindon. "For Narnia and for Aslan!"

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Muwhahahahahahaaaa! I'm baaack with the TENTH main entry in my A Light in the Darkness series! Trouble, trouble everywhere. :D Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**

 **A/N2: I will be alternating posting days after this so I can still work on _Sea of Deceit_. :)**


	2. Chapter Two: Loss, Pain, and

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Two: Loss, Pain, and . . .

Peter threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the Ettin's club. Twisting, he slashed through the fell Giant's wrist tendon. The Ettin bellowed then blubbered as the club slipped from his suddenly limp fingers. He stumbled back, grasping his bloody wrist and howling as large tears welled then spilled down to drip off the end of his bulbous nose. Peter's eyes widened when he saw the Ettin's stumbling steps taking him directly toward Edmund.

He raced forward and slashed through the back of the Ettin's knee. He collapsed, screaming only for as long as it took a Centaur soldier to drive a spear through his neck. Peter rushed on. The battle was fierce and the Narnians were holding their own. They had killed two of the four Ettins. The third was already stumbling beneath the General's unrelenting attack. Edmund and Babur were working together to drive back the fourth.

Peter allowed himself a wry smile as he noted Edmund had managed to keep his horse. No doubt, his brother would find the time to taunt him for losing another horse once this was all over. The smile vanished as a huge spear whistled through the air to skewer Edmund's horse. The animal's scream was horrible as the gelding collapsed, legs thrashing and Edmund still caught in the saddle. Then trees were torn up by their roots and hurtled toward soldiers, crushing four of them. Peter's heart dropped to his boots when no less than ten more Giants stomped and tore their way into the fray.

The screams of the injured and dying filled the air. Edmund. Where was Edmund? Peter scanned the area. "Edmund!"

The horse had mercifully ceased its death throes but Edmund . . . Peter blanched and ran forward, ignoring the Giants and the rapidly dwindling soldiers. "Edmund!"

His brother finally stirred. His pale face twisted into a grimace and he growled, "Blasted Giants!" He looked up and then his dark eyes widened in alarm. "Move!"

Peter whirled, bringing Rhindon up reflexively. A dark Giant with one shoulder higher than the other was stretching out a six-fingered hand. His black beard was knotted into messy braids with what could only be bones tied into them. His wide mouth parted into a sneer. Then his leering expression morphed into fury just as a Tiger's roar filled the air.

Babur clawed and bit the Giant's leg. Peter could only watch in horror as the Giant spun with lumbering grace and caught his Tiger up, squeezing so tightly that he could imagine he heard Babur's bones cracking. The Tiger let out a low moan. An angry cry of denial caught in Peter's throat, choking him, as the Giant brought the Tiger up to his mouth and he feared that he would have to watch the fiend bite Babur's head off.

Anger finally broke him of the paralyzing chains holding his limbs and Peter charged with a furious shout. "For Narnia and for Aslan!"

But this time, no voices were raised in an echoing rally to his battle cry. No support came. Even Edmund was still pinned by his dead horse. Peter charged forward alone but his fury blinded him to all but his target. The dark Giant let loose a horrid, cruel laugh and threw Babur away so the Tiger's limp body flopped then tumbled out of sight down a ravine. Peter screamed in anger. His faithful Tiger dead. Edmund trapped. Thalia. Oh Thalia. No, he would not let this happen. He would not let them kill him and his brother here. He would not let Babur's sacrifice be in vain.

The dark Giant merely leered at him and laughed that horrible taunting laugh once more. He stepped back as Peter lunged. Rhindon slashed harmlessly through the air. Edmund. Thalia. Babur. Susan and Lucy. Thalia. Babur. Edmund. Peter whirled, panting, and lunged forward again, this time slicing off a piece of the Giant's soiled patched velvet leggings. The Giant's laugh rumbled overhead and then he caught Peter in one hand and squeezed.

Peter gasped and coughed, Rhindon slipping from his grasp despite his frantic effort to hang on to the sword. He looked up into mean, dark eyes that gleamed with cruel intelligence lighting them. "The prize." His gaze shifted to somewhere behind Peter and he added, "Two prizes. They will be pleased."

Peter's grasping fingers managed to brush against the hilt of his dagger. The Giant's painfully tight grip was making the simple task difficult. Then Peter was falling as the Giant slammed him into the ground next to Edmund. He caught only a glimpse of his brother's alarmed look before all the air rushed from his lungs and darkness overtook him as the Giant's laugh rumbled in his ears.

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Three Ettins had cut him off from his colts and the rest of the soldiers. Oreius had put them in fear of his swords for the moment after he cut down the fourth. His gaze swept the torn landscape. The Giants were no longer engaged in battle, several stopping to pick up the wounded and finish them off. But where were his colts?

One of the Ettins grunted and Oreius leapt to the side as the Fell creature's spiked club dug into the ground, tearing furrows into the grass and exposing the dark soil. He cut deep into the Ettin's arm then sliced into the Giant's throat. The two remaining Ettins shifted about nervously, one attempting to hide behind his fellow.

Oreius caught a glimpse of a dark Giant, somewhat smaller than a typical Ettin but about the average size for one of the Harfang brood. His heart ceased to beat for a moment as he caught sight of his colts hanging limply from the Giant's hand. The dark Giant turned and looked at him, a haughty sneer in place. Then he bellowed, "Mork, Tor! Kill the horse-man and add him to our pie tonight!"

The two Ettins finally stopped cowering and straightened with exceptionally stupid grins crossing their faces. They turned to him with a greedy hunger lighting their small eyes. Oreius raised his swords in defiance. But more Giants were beginning to lumber across the killing field and the dark Giant who had stolen his colts was striding north with two other Giants following in his wake as some sort of honor guard.

Though it pained him to admit it, the Centaur knew he would not be able to defeat all of the remaining Giants on his own. They were slow but it would not take them long to swarm him, especially now their leader had promised him as food. He did not permit the horror of that thought, of the fate that awaited his fallen soldiers to gain a foothold in his thoughts. This was not the time for such distractions.

Oreius backed up warily, allowing the two Ettins to lumber after him, greed and hunger spurring them on. Finally, he reared, shouting a wordless challenge, and then wheeled about and galloped north. They were close to Ettinsmoor, not even ten miles as the gryphon flies. The Ettins were calling to each other, shouting stupid and obscene taunts about who would catch him first and what they would do with him, as they continued their lumbering run.

Oreius leapt one narrow ravine then galloped on. He could hear the other Giants making their way parallel to him, laughing and joking about their prizes. Pushing forward, he turned to his left and dashed into a ravine that would limit the Ettins' ability to maneuver their heavy clubs. Wheeling about, he raised his twin swords.

The Ettins caught sight of him and shouted, "Trapped! Trapped! Trapped!"

Oreius did not so much as flinch as one of them stopped to throw a massive boulder over him to crash to the ground behind him. Then the other Ettin shoved his fellow out of the way and hefted a large spear as he charged Oreius.

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Peter groaned but didn't open his eyes when something thumped against his boot. However, his eyes flew open when something or rather someone kicked him in the leg. He raised his head to glare at Edmund, wondering why he was bothering him. Just because they were camping didn't mean he would let his little brother get away with pestering him in his sleep. The jumbled thought of scolding his brat of a brother stuttered to a halt when a dull pain made his vision swim as he raised his head then it died completely when he saw Edmund was gagged and bound.

The horrid memory came flooding back. Giants, laughing, taunting, and killing. Babur. Peter sucked in a sharp breath and nearly gagged on the foul handkerchief cutting into the sides of his mouth. His arms and legs were bound with the same rough rope that was almost as thick around as he was wide. The knots were crude though. Perhaps, just perhaps he could get free.

He glanced at Edmund and then plucked at the knot near his knees. His brother gave a little nod and then they both stiffened as a voice boomed out, "Where are Mork and Tor? My kin? Where did you take my kin?"

Peter twisted his head around and spied the Giants sprawled about a huge bonfire. His eyes narrowed as he realized the Giants were sitting in two separate groups. Four Giants gathered around the dark one who had killed Babur. And four others gathered around a two-headed brute. Harfangers and Ettins. The Ettin with two heads scowled at the dark Harfanger. "Borak will hear of this."

The dark Harfanger shrugged almost carelessly but he kept one hand on his spear. "What care I, Culhwch?"

One of the Ettin's heads turned to frown at the other but said nothing. The other head smirked. "Borak is king of Harfang."

The Harfanger laughed and then raised his spear, pointing it threateningly at the Ettin. "What care I? It was not Borak who trapped the prizes. It was not Borak who caused us to feast on tender Narnian delicacies tonight. It was me! It was Morfran! Borak is in his castle, Morfran is bringing the prizes. And I, Morfran, decide who we care goes into the night and doesn't return."

"Don't return? What do you mean Mork and Tor don't return?" One of the other Ettins pushed forward, glaring, and a gleaming white bone in hand. "You sent our kin to be kilt?"

Morfran snorted then cursed the Ettins roundly. Peter jolted when a hand touched his sleeve. Edmund was looking at him with half amusement and half exasperation. Peter flushed, realizing he had foolishly allowed himself to be caught up in paying too much heed to the drama between the two camps of Giants and too little to getting out of his own precarious situation. Edmund made quick work of the knots near Peter's boots while he pried the knot at his knees loose then wriggled free of the clumsy knots binding his arms.

The Giants were still shoving each other and hurling insults along with miscellaneous objects. Peter noted that they had been tossed among the Harfangers' packs and two massive canvas bags currently blocked them from being easily seen by the feuding Giants. He scrambled into a low crouch and then looked at Edmund, mouthing "Oreius?"

His brother shook his head.

Peter wondered if Kat would ever forgive them if Oreius had not managed to escape the chaos. Probably not. He certainly wouldn't forgive himself. He gazed across the packs again at where the Giants were shoving each other with increasing aggression. He could barely see the remains of the soldiers but there was no way to tell if Oreius had also suffered the ghastly fate of his men. Peter swallowed hard then he steeled himself against the grief that would come, that had been earned by the soldiers who had fought so bravely to protect him and his brother.

Edmund came up and tapped him on the elbow then nodded to a shadowed ravine. Peter cast one last long look, wondering if the General was dead or merely missing, toward the Giants and then he turned back to his brother and gave a curt nod. Together they rose stealthily, picking their way across the packs.

"Eh! They's leavin'!"

They started running. The Giants' bellows turned from taunts to cries of dismay. A Harfanger lunged in front of them, his club bearing down on them. Peter lunged forward, ramming his shoulder into Edmund's back, and sending them both tumbling to the rocky ground as the club whistled overhead. Peter felt the draft ruffle his hair and heard the rip from a spike snagging against the back of his leather jerkin.

Then a war cry shattered the night air. Peter raised his head to see a Centaur formed of shadow hurtle into the attacking Ettin. The moonlight disappeared behind the clouds just as the Ettin's cries abruptly ended. Then a large hand pulled him up by the jerkin. Oreius' command echoed slightly, "Fly!"

Peter reached one hand out to steady Edmund and then they both raced toward the southerly ravine. A fiery beam from the bonfire landed across the ravine opening. The brothers whirled to see the Giants beginning to rally as Morfran and Culhwch shouted at them.

The General's dark gaze was as unfathomable as ever when Peter chanced a glance at him. He only inclined his head north. They were left with no other option after all. Oreius could have jumped the blazing log with ease but not so with Peter and Edmund. And Peter knew Oreius would never abandon them.

"Come on!" Edmund's whisper could have been a shout for the way it startled him. He must have hit his head harder than he thought when Morfran first knocked him out. The throbbing in his temples seemed to confirm it. Peter shook his head once and then raced after his brother. If they could just get clear of the Giants and find a narrow ravine, one too small for the Giants to enter, that would be all right.

"No! I need them alive, you idiots!"

Peter started to look over his shoulder to see what was going to kill him when he stumbled as Oreius shoved him out of the way. A large spear clattered to the rocks just in front of them. He placed a hand to his sleeve but felt nothing save the torn fabric. It hadn't even caught his skin, thank Aslan.

Oreius was still beside him but he also appeared to be uninjured. The Giants rallied again. The three of them ran. Oreius, however, fell further back, intimidating the Giants and harrying them as best he could.

It seemed hours passed before they finally entered a ravine with enough twists, turns, and narrow almost claustrophobic walls. The Giants' curses and shouts faded from hearing after a long while. But it was not until they came across another ravine that was cutting southeast instead of north that Peter allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. They were alive and relatively uninjured. He clapped Edmund on the shoulder and grinned. "Well, brother mine, that was not so bad this time."

His little brother snorted. "You clearly hit your head harder than I thought, Pevensie."

"We're alive."

"For now," Edmund muttered darkly. "Sun's nearly up."

"Good. Oreius, if it's only been a day since the attack-"

"Four."

Peter nodded, accepting the correction. "Then how long will it be before the next patrol follows our trail to the battlefield? Another three days? Or maybe five?"

Silence answered him. The brothers exchanged worried looks and then they spun to see Oreius. The Centaur was much further behind than Peter had first realized. His tanned skin had begun to take on an unnatural paleness and one of his hands was pressed over an ugly ragged wound that ran from his waist were man melded into horse to his barrel. The spear. Oh Aslan, the spear had not failed to hit a target after all.

"Oreius."

The Centaur raised his head, his mouth was pressed into a thin line, and then he grunted, "It is nothing. We must continue south and east toward the nearer of the border outposts."

"But your injury-"

"Can be treated at the outpost, Wolfsbane. Now, sir knights, keep moving."

Peter watched the General move forward, slowly but surely. He glanced at Edmund, still worried. His brother shook his head slightly and Peter nodded. They would have to wait before trying to persuade the Centaur to rest and let them tend his wounds with what little they could find.

The opportunity came before the sun had even risen from his bed long enough to fully illuminate the ravine. Oreius' steps had slowed over the last two hours and he faltered more but still refused to stop. Peter and Edmund could only watch as the General leaned more heavily against the rough stone walls of the ravine, sweat, lather, and blood leaving a trail in his wake. Watching the Centaur's stiff movements, Peter feared Oreius had received more injuries than the wound from the spear although that seemed to be the most severe one at the moment. Finally, as they rounded a bend where a shallow stream flowed from the base of a narrow waterfall, Oreius stumbled but this time he could not compensate. The Centaur collapsed heavily on his side and Peter heard an ominous crack.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Muwhaahaahaaahaaa! Babur appears courtesy of WillowDryad, who was nice enough to let me borrow him. Hopefully, she will not mind that I kinda broke him this time. O.o Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one!**


	3. Chapter Three: Expectations

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Three: Expectations

"You are not going in, my lady?"

Alambiel glanced at Leeta in amusement for a brief moment before she peeked around the corner again. Susan, looking like a larger than life humming bird in her jewel-tone dress, was directing the Queens' ladies-in-waiting, Thalia's ladies-in-waiting, pages, servants, soldiers, and various other courtiers in the latest round of preparations. Lucy and Thalia were helping as best they could (passing on the Gentle's instructions). Susan started to turn and Alambiel hurriedly stepped back, dragging Leeta with her. She placed a cautioning finger to her lips then whispered, "No, we're the only ones who can escape. Come on."

She stole away with a smirking Ptah and giggling Leeta in her wake. Then Susan's voice rang out, "Leeta! Oh there you are. Would you bring in that box of the blue, no, the red and yellow flowers? Please? And is the Princess Royal with you?"

Leeta's eyes widened and then she spun around and picked up the basket overflowing with various red and yellow flowers. "I fear I do not see her, Your Majesty. Shall I send a messenger for her?"

Alambiel bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at her dear friend's valiant attempt to save them all from her having to help prepare for the latest Calormene poppycock. And she had best get moving if she didn't want a vexed Leeta. Her practical, minimally decorated clothing tended to vanish and leave only very 'Princess Royal' dresses behind when Leeta was vexed.

She didn't slow until she reached the beach. Looking around, she had to admit coming to the beach was never quite as exciting as when Oreius was lurking about waiting to throw her in (not that her Kentauri ever admitted to lurking). Alambiel strolled along the gently crashing surf then waved to a passing Centaur. "Stormwind!" She laughed as she picked up the pace to greet her favorite of Oreius' cousins (of course, he was Oreius' favorite cousin too). "I thought you were still visiting your herd."

The Centaur who looked so like her husband save for his coloring being a bit lighter and his generally cheerful demeanor slowed to a stop as she reached him. He grinned and bowed with exaggerated courtesy. "Ah, fairest of cousins, you have blessed me with your vaunted notice. Is Oreius in a meeting?"

Alambiel laughed as she rested a hand on his arm. "Not this time. He is off on an inspection. I am hiding from all the fuss going on inside."

"What did you do?"

She propped both hands on her hips and glared at him. "Stormwind, what have I told you about sounding like Oreius?"

He chuckled then pretended to cower away from her. "Ah, my lady, pray spare me your fearsome wrath!"

She tried to fight the grin then let it curl her lips as she shook her head. "In answer to your insufferably rude question, I did nothing. The ruckus this time is solely for the preparation of the arrival of Prince Rabid Radish or whatever his name is."

Alambiel grinned as Stormwind burst into laughter. Of course, it wasn't the accomplishment it was with Oreius since this particular cousin was far more lighthearted and more readily given to humor than her Kentauri. She gestured toward the beach. "I decided to escape while I could. Sadly, Leeta fell to the chaotic masses. Her sacrifice shall be remembered."

The Centaur was still chuckling when he caught up with her and Ptah. "Are you certain the beach is the safest of options? Perhaps you would prefer to walk through the gardens or the memo-"

He cut himself with a sharp inhale and Alambiel turned her face away, unwilling to let him see that suggestion had hurt. Not everyone who walked through the memorials had reason to mourn, but she did. The beautiful statues and memorandums and plaques were not merely something to look at to her. And she certainly wasn't going without Oreius. She could barely stand it when they went once a year. They had not had time to go to the memorial this year so she could place flowers for . . .

Tears threatened and she blinked rapidly to banish them. Ptah was growling at Stormwind. "Foolish."

"Alambiel, I did not intend to-"

"It is of no matter." She fixed a smile in place and watched as her husband's cousin relaxed a little, relief flickering in his tawny eyes. "Now, let us walk down the beach and you can help plot my next prank for the Kentauri."

Stormwind looked at her a little uncertainly now although his mouth quivered with barely suppressed amusement. "Oreius does not like it when I help you plot. My cousin believes I encourage you in your mischief."

Alambiel threw her head and laughed. "You do encourage me! And I must say you are quite fortunate Oreius never learned you were the brains behind the fish and onions incident."

He cleared his throat even as he grinned unrepentantly. "But it was the only way I could get you to talk to me again with more than your frigid cordiality, fairest cousin." He offered her his arm and she took it.

"You know I'm still haven't completely forgiven you for braining Oreius during that so-called game last year."

"It wasn't intentional!" He paused then looked down at her with a grin. "Do you think your husband is keeping out of trouble right now?"

"He'd better." Alambiel's gaze was drawn north as she added with a soft laugh, "I am not there to rescue him and the Kings after all. Besides, they are to return in a few days. Susan's orders and no one disobeys the Gentle when she's in the midst of her guest preparations. Not to mention, Calormen was quite adamant that Prince Rabid Radish is to be greeted by the Four together or insult will be taken by the Tisroc (may his schemes result in eel pies forever) as per usual."

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"What now?"

"I don't know."

"We're going to have to make a litter of some type."

"If more than one of his ribs broke . . ."

Oreius opened his eyes. Hot pain licked up his sides where the Giant's club had grazed him enough to crack and break ribs and where the spear had torn its furrow. His colts were crouched nearby, their hands resting on daggers. They had lost their swords. He frowned. How was it his colts were always losing their swords?

And why were they staying still when they should be headed south? The Harfangers and Ettins were clearly attempting to work together. It always proved ill when the Fell Giants laid aside their differences to focus on Narnia. He had to get up. He had to get his colts to safety.

The pain threatened to steal his breath as he gathered his legs beneath him and then lurched up, bracing one hand against the ravine wall. But still he stayed on his hooves.

"Oreius," the hissed cry caused him to look up. His golden colt had already gained his side and Edmund followed. "Oreius, your wounds."

"I am well enough to move. And you both should have kept moving. We've no time to be caught by the Giants again." He did not let on how much pain the simple task of talking caused. Instead, he moved forward, slowly but still forward, for which he knew he should thank Aslan. "Come, both of you."

His golden colt looked over his shoulder at his brother who only shrugged. The High King sighed and ran a hand over his scruffy chin. "Kat's going to kill all three of us."

Alambiel. Oreius shook his head then stopped when the movement made the entire ravine waver before his eyes. "I have no intention of giving my wife cause to be vexed with me. No more talk. Move."

They trudged at an interminably slow pace to Oreius' way of thinking. His colts should have gone ahead but they refused to leave him. He could only pray that the Giants had failed to find their trail again. Although the odds were against them. He closed his eyes briefly, recalling a conversation thirteen years ago. _"Numbers do not win a battle."_ He had spoken them to encourage a frightened colt who was in over his head. He had spoken them despite the despair in his heart over the news of Aslan's death and the loss of the One whom Jadis feared. They had been true. They were _still_ true.

"Oreius, perhaps we should stop."

He opened his eyes and then gritted his teeth. "No."

His golden colt swallowed then gestured to his brother. "We're pretty tired. Maybe just a five minute rest before we press on?"

"No. We must not stop." He looked around the widening ravine and where one side abruptly dropped into a chasm. It was too exposed for his liking. If it were not the only path leading south that they had found so far, he would have scouted out a different path to Narnia. But it was and he could not. "We must not stop. We must get through the open area swiftly. Silently."

"But Oreius-"

He leveled Wolfsbane with a stern glare. "Swiftly and silently, sir knight."

For a moment, he could tell that the High King was considering ordering him to comply with his wishes. Then his dark colt stepped forward and nudged Peter. "Yes, General. Come on, Pete."

They had just entered the most exposed area of the ravine when a stupid but no less odious laugh filled the air. "Found you!"

Oreius raised his head to see one of the Ettins lumbering toward them, a spear in hand. The Ettin laughed again and drew his arm back, aiming for Peter. No. Ignoring the protest of his wounds, Oreius drew his claymore and charged forward. He knocked Peter to the ground as he passed him, making sure the colt wouldn't lose his head if he failed to stop this initial onslaught.

The Ettin faltered, fear beginning to seep into his dull eyes. "Not you. Culhwch not want you!" He slung his spear at Oreius, knocking him over as the shaft collided with his side.

Oreius groaned as more ribs cracked but still he scrambled to his hooves once more. He could not raise his left arm properly. Gritting his teeth, he begged Alambiel for her forgiveness and Aslan to protect his colts. Ignoring the searing pain, Oreius raised his claymore once more and galloped forward. The Ettin stumbled over his own feet. Oreius' claymore sank into the Ettin's chest. The Fell Giant's eyes widened as his heart was pierced but still he managed to slam his spear into Oreius once more.

A hoarse cry ripped free of the Centaur's throat as the spearhead found its mark, shattering bone. But by some miracle the Giant's death grip was not forceful enough to drive through to render an immediately mortal wound. Instead, the Ettin shoved then jerked his spear free, slicing through muscle.

Oreius stumbled to the side but his hooves came down on naught but air. He lurched to the other side, dropping his claymore in his attempt to regain his balance, but still he fell. He saw the rocky shelf rushing up to him and heard his colts cry out. An unbearable pain blossomed and then he knew no more.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Dun dun dun duuuuuuun! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought of this chapter.**


	4. Chapter Four: Cause for Alarm

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Four: Cause for Alarm

Thalia stood in the shade of a large oak, her hands clasping her soft green skirts, and her head tilted back, eyes closed, as she dug into the cool soil and grass with her toes. She could hear Bast panting nearby. Peter had insisted the Tigress stay with her because of Sekhmet's illness while he took Babur with him as he, his brother, and the General toured the northern villages.

Opening her eyes, she studied the multi-colored leaves still slinging to the branches overhead. It was a pity she had been unable to sway her sister-in-law to join her for a walk through the woods outside Cair Paravel. She thought it was most refreshing (if somewhat chilled due to falling temperatures) compared to the preparations for Prince Rabadash Susan was currently embroiled in. Lucy, of course, was still attempting to make sure the Greyback brothers adhered to the punishment handed down by the Just King. Thalia smiled a little. Those poor pups were creating as many problems as they attempted to help fix in the gardens.

Bast's low warning growl caught her attention. "What is it?"

The Tigress was on her feet and edging between her and the grove of birches, her green eyes flat and her gleaming fangs bared in a silent snarl. "Show yourself." She stiffened suddenly as she tested the air and then a low wrenching moan broke free, the sound chilling Thalia to the roots.

She ran to the Tigress just as a pitiful caricature of a Tiger emerged into the small clearing. His fur was matted with dried blood and what appeared to be mud. His left foreleg was dangling limply and he teetered precariously before collapsing. Bast raced forward. "Babur!"

Thalia could hardly believe her eyes. Her husband's Tiger looked to be a breath away from Aslan's country but where . . .? "Peter?"

Babur did not respond. Only his wheezing breaths gave evidence that he still lived even as his sister nudged him carefully. Thalia stepped back. "I will go for help."

She did not wait for Bast's response. Instead, she immediately willed her corporeal form to dissipate into spring bright beech leaves. Rising, she rode the northern wind to Cair Paravel, to the balcony with two doors, only one of which stood open. Retaking her corporeal form, Thalia landed lightly on the balcony. "Alambiel!"

The Princess Royal drew a drop cloth over her easel and canvas, her paints and brush already set aside. "What is it?" She looked up and her expression changed from mild curiosity to concern. "Thalia, what's happened?"

Thalia's gaze fell to where Ptah was stretched out by the older Nymph's feet. Normally, she would not have hesitated to speak in his presence but . . .

"Thalia." The Princess Royal was in front of her now. "Why are you here? You know Ptah and Leeta will not betray our trust."

She trembled, feeling as though a howling wind caused her tree to sway in the midst of an overwhelming storm. "Babur has returned. He is badly wounded. Dying, I think. I don't know where Peter is."

Alambiel stared at her then concern turned to unshakeable and deceptive calm. "All right. Go back to Babur. You must find out what he knows. I will bring Lucy to you. Tell Bast that no one must find Babur right now. Do you understand?"

Thalia nodded, still trembling. They had to find out what happened from Babur in case the cordial did not come soon enough. Peter would be devastated if the Tiger died. And if he died before they learned where to send aid . . . She shuddered. It did not bear thinking. "I will find out what happened."

She turned and ran for the balcony, once again banishing her corporeal form. It took more time to reach the little clearing where she had left the Tigers since she could not simply ride the winds. Every precious moment that slipped by drove the axe of worry deeper into her. Was Peter still alive? What had happened? Why had Babur returned to Cair Paravel alone?

 _Oh Aslan, have mercy._

The Tigers had not moved since she left. Thalia rushed to Babur and carefully took his heavy head in her hands. "Babur. Babur, you must tell me where is Peter and what has happened. How were you wounded?"

The Tiger didn't respond right away but then he opened one eye. "Your- Highness. High- King . . . the High King."

Thalia stroked his bloodied and matted fur as much as she dared. "Where is he?"

"Don't . . . know." The Tiger moaned and Bast moved a little closer to her brother.

"Queen Lucy is coming with the cordial. But you must tell me what happened. How were you separated from Peter?"

Babur's panting breaths were growing fainter and Thalia began to fear that the cordial would come too late for him. "Babur. What happened?"

The Tiger didn't answer, his labored breathing weakening even further. Thalia pet his fur, trying to offer a little comfort to the Beast struggling to stay alive. "Babur. Don't leave us yet. Help is coming."

"High King . . . ambushed . . . by . . . Giants."

Thalia paled. More Giants. The Tiger gasped, a film creeping over his one opened eye. "Many dead . . . the Giants . . . took the . . . Kings."

He gasped again and then went still. Bast moaned. The sound of light footfalls made Thalia look away from the piteous sight. The Princess Royal was sprinting toward them with both Queens following close behind. Queen Lucy dropped to her knees next to Thalia and quickly gave Babur a drop from the diamond vial of cordial.

Nothing happened. Thalia clapped her hand over her mouth as tears blinded her. The Tiger had tried so hard to protect her husband, to bring help. Bast hung her head, whiskers drooping. Then Babur gasped and stood up. He shook himself then turned bright eyes on their small group and bowed. "My Queens. There is much you must know."

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"Why not summon the army, My Queens?"

"Because then we won't be able to keep this situation as controlled as we need to," Alambiel interjected. She paced back and forth. "We cannot linger out here much longer before attracting attention. We also cannot afford for the Calormene delegation to learn that we're missing the three men responsible for the military strength and safety of Narnia. They still have yet to learn that the women of Narnia are more than pretty ornaments, which can be used to our advantage if we do this right."

She refused to think about Babur's non-report concerning Oreius. The Kentauri could take care of himself and he was probably already hunting the Giants down. Lucy placed a hand to her little dagger. "Then we have to find them."

Alambiel offered her the slightest of smiles. "My thoughts exactly."

"But we cannot all go," Susan stated softly. Her mouth turned down into a frown as she pushed back her long black hair. "The Calormenes are due to arrive within the next three weeks. And if Peter and Edmund are not here . . ." She trailed off, looking a little pale, but then she raised her chin. "I will ask the Merfolk to give us early warning so we know when the Calormene delegation draws near to Narnia. No one outside of those of us here has seen Babur so we can keep it quiet."

"Good." Alambiel glanced up at the sun's position. "Lucy and I will leave within the hour. We'll set out for the Shuddering Wood and then make the appropriate changes in our course once we are far enough away. Babur, will you be able to show us the way back to the ambush site?"

The Tiger bowed his head. "Of course."

"I am going with you."

Alambiel looked at Thalia. The Princess Consort had yet to assume her tamer corporeal form. Beech leaves the same shade as her diaphanous dress were mingled in her nut-brown hair and there was a wildness in her light green eyes. Just two years ago, she would have refused but Thalia had come a long way from the genteel Beech Nymph who never touched a weapon. "Convince me."

Thalia blinked, obviously surprised, but then she stepped forward. "You will need someone who can scout ahead of you and find these Giants without being noticed. Even Birds and Bats might be noticed but would the Northern Giants pay much heed to leaves blown about on the wind? I think not. And my husband is out there. I cannot stay at home waiting for news when I might help find him. I will be of more use to you by accompanying you than staying here with Susan."

"All right." Alambiel turned to Susan. "Alert Ardon to what has happened. He will help you and prepare a new course of action if necessary. Leeta is already aware of Babur's return, of course, and I have set her to several tasks that should also help you hold down the fort while we're gone. But no one else must learn of this."

The Gentle Queen nodded then she pulled her sister into a tight hug. "Be careful." Her gaze swept the others as she added, "All of you and bring them home."

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"Are you sure?"

"Of course, look there's Babur. He wouldn't be back if Alpha wasn't with him. Come on." Remus shoved his brother and then, wagging his tail so hard that his whole body wriggled, he went bounding out of the bushes. "Babur! Where did you put Alpha? Is he still mad? He shouldn't be. We did a really good job of fixing the gardens. Hello, Queen Lucy. Did you find Tarrin yet?"

"Greybacks!"

Remus froze mid-wag and hunkered to the ground. He knew that tone. Whenever the General's mate used it was very unpleasant and her growl was much worse than being bit on the tail. Dolefully, he turned to the General's mate and gave a tentative wag of his tail. "Yes, Princess Alambiel."

The foolish grass-eaters Queen Lucy and Princess Thalia were riding pranced and tried to kick at him and Romulus as they crept through the grass. But Princess Alambiel's grass-eater merely snorted at them. The Tigers and Ptah were glaring at them though. Maybe they should have waited for Alpha to come find them but that would have been a very long wait because Alpha might have gotten hungry and forgotten about them.

"Remus. Why are the two of you following us?"

Remus sat up with a doggy grin, pink tongue lolling. "We wanted to surprise Alpha. Romulus saw Babur and Bast and I thought that meant Alpha's back."

"And we didn't want to miss Alpha coming back," Romulus added.

Remus nodded. "Where's Alpha?"

The Princess Royal laughed suddenly. "Well, we can't send you back."

Remus pricked his ears up. "Why?"

Romulus nudged him. "Use your nose! Can't you smell it? Or did you get too much dirt in it again?"

Remus gave his brother a scathing look. "I do not have dirt up my nose." But then he had to pause and sniff the air. There was a faint trace of blood and mud and something as smelly as the compost pile Alpha always got mad about when he and Romulus rolled around in it to hide from Bast. His lips quivered, baring gleaming fangs, as he snarled. "Giants!"

"The Kings and the General were ambushed four days ago. The Giants absconded with the Kings. We're going to get them back."

Alpha was gone? Remus snarled louder. "We can find them!"

Romulus nodded. "We'll find them. Just watch!"

The Princess Royal looked at them and then nodded. "Babur is leading us to the place this happened. Do not wander off and do not get in his way. And I want you to do your best to be quiet. Understand?"

Remus and Romulus both nodded. "We will!"

It wasn't until an hour had passed that Remus thought of something he should ask. Running back among the silly grass-eaters, he raced up on the side of Princess Alambiel's horse opposite of Ptah. "Princess Alambiel! What happened to the General?"

She looked down at him. "What do you mean?"

"You said the Giants took Alpha and the High King. What if they didn't want the General too? Where is he?"

Ptah hissed at him. Remus ignored him. "How come the General didn't come back with Babur?"

"I am certain Oreius is protecting the Kings as best he can."

"Wouldn't he have to be with them to do that?"

"Remus!" Remus' ears flattened as Bast hissed at him again. "Mind your manners, pup."

"I am not a pup." He looked up at the Princess Royal and snuffled her boot. "I'm sorry. It was on accident."

She smiled but she smelled sad and worried. "I know. Now, let's do a real run for a bit. We have people to find."

Remus howled in excitement as the horses galloped past him, the silly grass-eaters kicking up their hooves at him and Romulus and the Big Cats too. He wagged his tail as he chased after them. They were going to find Alpha. He wondered how much Alpha would like learning that he and Romulus helped Peridan's twin puppies decorate his study with lots of good frogs.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Soooo, the Greybacks are simply refusing to grow up. Just older. ;) Next chapter will be nice and long and VERY critical to the boys and Oreius. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this chapter.**


	5. Chapter Five: A Rock and a Hard Place

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Five: A Rock and a Hard Place

"Put more pressure on that wound. He's still bleeding."

Peter grimaced as he tried to press harder on the deep wound. Oreius groaned but did not wake. Peter glanced over his shoulder at Edmund who was still digging through the General's travel packs. "I can't press much harder. If I do, I might send a rib into a lung. Did you find the healing kit?"

"Not yet." His brother scowled. "I think Charis was the one with it. And Oreius isn't like Kat. He may not have bothered to bring anything extra since we weren't supposed to have any difficulties on this trip. Not that that mattered to the bloody Giants."

He didn't answer his brother's grumbling; instead, he focused on Oreius. The Centaur's blood had already stained through the makeshift bandages they had made out of the cloak they'd found stuffed in Oreius' pack. He wasn't even sure how many bones had been broken in the fall and it had taken them an hour before they had managed to get down to where he had fallen. It was a miracle that the spear hadn't killed him right away and that he'd survived the fall. "Needle and thread?"

"No." Edmund swore under his breath.

Peter glanced at him. His brother looked worn and there were dark circles under his eyes. The scruffy beard that had sprouted on Ed's jaw reminded Peter of his own scratchy addition. He idly rubbed at his beard as he tried to think of a plan. "Maybe we should build a litter."

"With what?" Edmund swept his arm wide at the barren Ettinsmoor ravine. "And even if we could build a litter, we wouldn't be able to move him by ourselves."

He was right but Peter still shook his head. "We cannot just let him stay here. That will kill him."

"Right now, trying to move him will kill him faster." His brother stood up suddenly, something clenched in his hand, and he paled a little beneath the dirt and scruff as he stared at it. He abruptly set it back on the pack and then stalked off, calling over his shoulder, "I'm going to collect more water."

Peter watched him go and then walked over to the pack. Resting on top was a small painting of Kat, smiling one of those special smiles she only ever gave Oreius.

Swiping his brow, Peter started to put the painting into the pack but then he stopped. Motivation. He had seen the healers give wounded soldiers their personal effects. It reminded them of why they fought to live. Swiftly crossing to where Oreius lay, Peter crouched beside him and carefully placed the painting in the Centaur's hand. The General's fingers curled over the painting and then he grasped Peter's wrist with his other hand. "My wife- Peter, my wife."

Peter placed a hand over Oreius' as the Centaur struggled to draw breath. "Stay still, don't try to move. You're badly injured, General. Kat's in Cair Paravel where you left her."

"No." Oreius closed his eyes for a moment, pain carving the angular planes of his face into sharp relief. "No. Peter, my wife- She must be . . . she must be protected. Her and the foal. Give me- Your word. Protect her. Protect them. Too many . . . too many would try to harm her and she would not ask- for help. If I- If I am not there. Your word."

Foal. Peter swallowed hard and then nodded. "Don't worry, we'll keep her safe. Kat and your foal won't be a target, I'll make sure of it. And so will you once you've recovered from your injuries."

Oreius did not respond. Instead, he went limp again, still clutching the painting of Kat. Peter sat beside him, feeling helpless and more than guilty. It was bad enough if he had to go back to Cair Paravel and tell Kat that her husband died, but a baby too . . . Oh Aslan, why hadn't he even considered the possibility? What was he going to tell Kat?

"Peter?"

He looked up abruptly and swiped his eyes with his sleeve. Edmund was holding a dripping water bag. The almost defiant exasperation was gone now. The Edmund who looked at him now was not so far removed from the little boy Oreius had rescued thirteen years ago. His dark gaze went from him to the Centaur. "Is he?"

"No." Peter cleared his throat as he scrambled to his feet and then crossed the short distance to his brother. "But, Eddie, he said Kat's pregnant and-" He broke off, shaking his head. "What am I going to tell her?"

"Are you sure she is?"

"Oreius is sure." Peter glanced over his shoulder at the Centaur. "She must have told him when they took that holiday right before we left and, given what happened the last time, I can see why they wouldn't have told anyone else just yet." He took a shaky breath and turned back to his brother. "What am I going to tell her, Eddie? That she's going to have to raise their baby by herself? That this happened because _I_ decided we didn't need a full patrol to escort us on this tour? Because _I_ insisted we needed to personally tour the villages? All three of us?"

Fragile. Even after thirteen years, it wasn't a word Peter would use to describe Oreius. But as the Centaur lay with his lifeblood slowly, indelibly staining the stony ground of Ettinsmoor, he could think of no other way to describe his condition. Aslan help them if another Giant blundered across their hideaway. Peter exchanged a grim look with his brother. "He needs help."

"I know."

Peter was certain that the only reason Oreius still clung to life was for Kat's sake. The shelf would be just enough protection. Oreius' current fragility hammered home the need to find help and soon.

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Edmund stared at his brother. Poor, tenderhearted Peter. Of course, he was blaming himself. Even Edmund didn't know how he would face Kat if Oreius died. He cleared his throat, his expression hardening again. "You're right. Oreius needs help, professional help from healers who can at least keep him alive until he receives the cordial, but we still can't move him on our own."

Peter scrubbed both hands through his hair. "I know, I know. But-"

"Which is why I'll go for help."

"You can't go on your own. You don't even have a sword."

"Neither do you," Edmund pointed out. Then he nodded to where they had placed Oreius' weapons. "But I can borrow one." Striding over, he picked up one of the swords and slipped it into the empty sheath still hanging from his belt. He turned back to his brother. "You stay with Oreius. Try to keep the bleeding under control. I'll be back as soon as I can. Hopefully we're only a day or two away from the nearest border outpost and the patrols and help will come back faster than I can on foot."

"Edmund, the Giants-"

"Have probably lost us. Otherwise, they would be trying to get us already. They're certainly determined enough."

Peter stared at him bleakly and then abruptly pulled him into a crushing hug. "Lion keep you, brother mine."

"And you, brother mine." Edmund patted him on the shoulder and then wriggled free. "But I can't go for help if you're busy being all sentimental, Pevensie."

His brother gave a little huff of laughter. "Hurry."

Edmund nodded. "I will." Then he jogged away from the shelf sheltering his brother and the dying Centaur who had done so much to be a father to them both . . . and who might not get the chance to be a father to his own child. No, he wouldn't think like that.

Keeping his steps light, Edmund hurried through the twists and turns of the ravine. Sweat trickled down his back despite the cold temperatures of Ettinsmoor as the sun beat down on his head. Edmund took another turn and groaned as he ran into a broken cliff rising above him. The rough stone cut into his hands as he climbed. His boot slipped and Edmund grunted as he slammed into the cliff face. Tightening his grip, he pulled himself up and found another toehold. Finally, he reached the top and allowed a little sigh of relief.

Then he looked up and groaned. The sun was in the wrong position. Somehow he had gone north instead of south. Edmund swore under his breath as he rose to his feet and glared at the ravine. Blasted place.

But being out of the ravine meant he could make his way south easier. Edmund muttered under his breath, "Peter never learns of this."

Then the sunlight was blotted out. Edmund frowned then his eyes widened and his hand went to the borrowed sword as the shadow turned into shadows. Whirling, he stared up into the wicked grins of three Giants.

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"Alambiel . . . Alambiel . . ." Oreius' dark eyes stared through him as he whispered between labored breaths. Peter found the cup and poured more water into it, spilling as his hand shook. The Centaur's murmurings were hardly audible as he watched without seeing. All Peter knew was that Oreius was either calling for his wife or talking to her. And he no longer responded when Peter tried to talk to him.

Peter touched the Centaur's hand and felt his fingers tighten on the painting. "Oreius?"

The General didn't even look at him. Peter touched the cup to his lips. "Oreius, drink this. It's not much but it should help a little."

Oreius' raspy breathing didn't change but he raised his good arm and supported the cup as he drank. Peter tried not to worry too much about how Oreius' arm shook and then dropped as soon as he finished drinking. It had been a full day since Edmund left for help. Ed probably wouldn't be in Narnia yet but still he couldn't shake the sense that he should go look for his brother. That something had happened.

Peter startled when Oreius suddenly grabbed his wrist. His dark gaze was still unfocused but there was a fierceness about him now. The Centaur clenched his jaw and then gasped, "I lost a son already. I won't- I won't lose the two colts Aslan gave me. I will not!"

"Be at ease." Peter touched Oreius on the shoulder. "Oreius, we're- The colts won't be harmed. You've saved them." He paused then added, "I'm sorry about your son."

Oreius looked at him for a moment and Peter saw the raw pain there. The Centaur nodded. "The colts are safe." Then he closed his eyes.

"Oreius?"

There was no response. Peter placed his fingers against his throat, not relaxing until he felt a pulse. Rising, he began pacing again. Edmund was taking too long. He could feel that something was wrong. What if Edmund had gotten lost or fallen or something? He had to know. He had to do something.

He looked again at Oreius, feeling torn between his brother and his duty to help Oreius. But what good was he? He wasn't a healer and he didn't even have anything to help tend the Centaur's wounds. He was dying and staying with him only meant he would be watching his friend, his teacher, his father die slowly and painfully. Peter clenched his fists and pounded them against his legs, wishing he had one of those blasted Giants to unleash his wrath upon. He looked from Oreius to the path Edmund had taken yesterday then back to Oreius. If he did nothing, something terrible would happen to Edmund. He could feel it. And Oreius would die for want of a healer. If he left, he risked leaving Oreius to die alone.

Peter picked up the other sword, mate to the one Edmund took, and then slipped it into his belt. He grabbed the packs and moved them closer to where the Centaur lay. Then he carefully changed the strips of cloak for the last fresh ones. "I'm going to find Edmund and then we'll bring help, Oreius. Hang on for Kat's sake." He paused, hoping that the Centaur would wake and give him advice or just a blessing that he was making the right decision, but Oreius didn't stir. "Hang on, Oreius. We're going to get you help. Hang on for your wife and your little foal."

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It was almost night when Oreius opened his eyes. His colts were gone, safe. He hoped they were safe. He hadn't been able to save his son but he could save the colts. Every breath was agony and his thoughts kept drifting back to Alambiel, how she had looked when they parted. She would mourn him.

He looked down at his hand and noticed the painting. Alambiel smiled at him. With a groan, he moved his good arm so he could touch her painted likeness. "I'm- sorry, so sorry. I wanted- to come back to you."

"Then maybe you should fight to live."

Oreius raised his eyes and saw her sitting on a nearby rock. "Alambiel."

She smiled but her blue eyes remained somber. She pushed back the strands of gold and white that had fallen in front of her face. "You're dying, Kentauri."

He nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Fight."

He tried to sit up, to reach for her so he could explain why he couldn't go home this time. But his body refused to obey and every movement sent hot lances of pain arcing through him. He could feel his ribs scraping against his lungs. It would not take much for them to be punctured by a broken rib. "I can't."

"Yes, you can."

Oreius looked at her and almost smiled. "Beautiful healer."

She was closer now although he did not remember her moving. She leaned down toward him. "Will you not fight for my sake? Live."

"I am trying."

"You were thinking about giving up."

"No."

She nodded. "You were. Now fight."

He groaned. The pain made it difficult to concentrate but he still saw Alambiel. She was looking away from him now. He extended a hand toward her. "Stay- Stay with me."

She looked at him and wind stirred her hair, lending her more of an ethereal air. She nodded and knelt next to him. "Don't worry. I'm staying with you until the end, Kentauri."

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Night fell, covering Ettinsmoor in a shadowed cloak that defied Peter's quest to continue tracking his brother, but still he pressed on. The sky was cloudy, concealing the stars from view, and the northern wind sank its icy fangs into him, biting through his clothing with laughable ease. He hoped Edmund had found a more sheltered area to walk. Chafing his hands together and blowing on them, he walked on.

He wasn't even sure if Edmund had come this way but he hadn't stumbled across any paths that split off from the ravine. He was half-tempted to call out for Ed but Oreius would have smacked him upside the head for doing something so stupid when there were Fell Giants in the area. And while the Northern Giants weren't the sharpest tacks, their hearing worked just fine when it came to shouts.

Peter stumbled on a loose stone and then slid off a slight embankment, grunting as he landed hard on his knees. "Should have brought a torch, Pevensie."

He imagined he could hear Edmund's snort. _We don't have any of those with us, nitwit._ Peter smiled to himself and shook his head. No, they hadn't brought any. At least, he hadn't remembered to take any from Oreius' pack. But Edmund probably had. Cautiously brushing off the dirt, he could feel the rips in his leggings and he'd probably bloodied his knees. He wished the moon would come out from behind the clouds and provide him light.

"Peter!"

He jerked around to the right. "Edmund?" He didn't dare raise his voice and he wondered at his brother doing so but then the call came again, more urgent this time. "Edmund!" Drawing his borrowed sword, Peter raced into the darkness. Flickering torchlight suddenly cast the ravine into sharp detail. Peter winced, instinctively raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden change. "Edmund?"

A harsh laugh boomed out above him. Peter stared in horror at the two-headed Ettin from before, Culhwch. "Look a fine prize runs home!"

Peter's horror turned to rage and he let out a yell as he lunged forward, blade flashing, and cut into the outstretched hand of one of Culhwch's cohorts. The Ettin bellowed in pain, large tears rolling down his face as he cradled his wounded hand to his chest, blubbering.

Culhwch sneered at the other Ettin and then caught Peter in one large fist. His two heads wore identical evil grins as their eyes studied him. He squeezed just hard enough that Peter lost his grip on Oreius' sword, which fell to the rocky ground with a painful clatter. Then he held him closer. "Let us see if Morfran will barter for you, little king."

"Why?" An Ettin with only one ear stepped closer, peering at Peter as he licked his lips. "Why trade with Harfang? He kilt Mork and Tor. Why not eat this 'un? Put him in a pie."

Culhwch backhanded the Ettin. "Fool! I want Morfran to beg. He wants the humans badly. I want to know why. What Harfang is planning."

The one-eared Ettin scowled, rubbing his face. "He's got one already. Let's eat this 'un. I'm starvin'."

Another Ettin let out a crude laugh and shoved him, not caring in the least that it caused him to stumble back into the pathetic fellow who was still blubbering about his wounded hand. "Still 'ungry, Gork? The horse-men and that big elk not enough for you? Look at 'im. 'E's not big enough to make a decent pie." He paused then looked at Peter with beady eyes filled with hungry contemplation. "Maybe we should turn 'im to jelly. Ain't never 'ad man-jelly afore."

Peter felt as though he might be sick, listening to the callous way these Ettins spoke of murdering and then eating the soldiers who had formed the small escort. They had no regard for life, no love for Aslan and His way, and he pitied them for it. He also hated them for it. He tried to squirm free of Culhwch's grip but the Giant was not careless with him. He only tightened his grip until Peter stopped fidgeting for fear that his bones would break.

More light filled the ravine and monstrously large shadows accompanied it. "Found the other one did you, Culhwch? Morfran will be pleased." Peter saw the undisguised hate in the two-headed Ettin's eyes as he turned to face the newcomers. Three heavily armed Harfangers. The spokesman of the group glared back. "Morfran will be more pleased if we take him from you."

Culhwch's grip on Peter tightened and Peter gasped, certain he could feel his bones grinding together before the grip slackened once more. Culhwch sneered. "I'll keep him. He's my prize now." He dropped Peter into his pouch among bones and rotting meat.

The journey was a bit of a blur as Peter was jostled about with the Ettin's every step. He tried not to think about what or whom he could be standing on but still he retched twice. He doubted Culhwch would care though. The Giants had to have Edmund. The disheartening thought was almost enough to make Peter retch again. But still he hoped and prayed that Edmund had escaped, that he had gotten into Narnia and found help for Oreius.

The jostling stopped abruptly. Peter clung to the sticky leather in an attempt not to fall into the mess lining the bottom of the pouch. He grimaced but then the top of the pouch was opened and he heard Culhwch shout, "I'll eat him first!"

Thick, clumsy fingers plucked him out of the pouch and Peter saw the Giants had rejoined the Harfangers. Morfran was glaring, a large spiked cudgel in one hand. "Give him to us!"

Culhwch sneered. "You are not my king, Morfran. You are not even Harfang's king. Borak is your king. The human is mine! And I say he goes into the cooking pot with the other one."

Then Peter found himself being tossed into a cooking pot resting next to a huge fire. The metal was uncomfortably warm to the point that Peter scrambled to get to his feet despite the way the pot seemed to sway before his eyes.

"You just had to follow me, didn't you?"

"Eddie?" Peter breathed and then he spun around to see Edmund standing on the far side of the pot. His brother was battered, bruised, and bloodier than when they had parted but he was alive and still whole. "Edmund, thank Aslan!"

He pulled his brother into a hug only to be shoved back. Edmund wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Ugh! Peter, what have you been sitting in? You smell worse than when Remus rolls in the compost."

Peter let out a little laugh. "Culhwch's pouch."

"Why not roast 'em? I likes 'em hot!"

"No! Make 'em a stew! They's already in the pot!"

Morfran's head and shoulders appeared above them as he shoved the one-eared Ettin, Gork, away from the pot and then pointed a finger at him. "They are not for eating."

"Why's that?" Culhwch stomped closer. "Why are they so special? You ate the others same as us. The man pies you serve at Harfang aren't small enough for these two to be filling. Why do you want them?"

"Because they brings greathood to Harfang! Morrigan-"

The Harfanger who had spoken cried out as Morfran punched him. The dark Harfanger was seething. "Be quiet, idiot!"

"Greathood?" Culhwch's eyes narrowed. "What's Morrigan plotting?"

Morfran's only reply was to swear. Then one of the Ettins jostled the cooking pot, tossing Peter and Edmund down. "They don't need their legs for greathood. Let's eat their legs."

Peter clambered on top of his brother, desperate to shield him as the Ettin reached for them. Then Morfran shouted in rage, "You want more meat? Then we can just eat you!"

The Ettin roared in pain and reeled away from the pot. Culhwch swore and then threw himself at Morfran. The Giants' yells and curses filled the night. Peter scrambled to his feet as the sound of fighting continued and then nodded to Edmund. They raced for the side of the pot that seemed furthest away from the battling Giants. Peter linked his hands together and then gave Edmund a boost. His brother glanced down once and nodded before slipping over the lip of the pot. Peter backed up, feeling the heat seep through the soles of his boots and making his socked feet sweat, and then he took a running leap. He caught the lip and hissed in pain as the hot metal burned his hands.

Pulling himself up, he caught a glimpse of the Giants brawling. Two of them had fallen and their fellows trod over them as they continued battling each other. Then Peter dropped to the ground as soundlessly as possible. Edmund nodded to the unguarded wilds to their right. Peter frowned but Morfran and Culhwch's battle would end sometime and, no matter the outcome, neither of them was going to be a kind captor. He looked up, hoping against hope that the stars had come out, but only clouds met his searching gaze. His hands hurt but he pushed the thought aside as he gave a curt nod. They ran.

Peter kept close to Edmund as a precaution against being separated again. They had nearly reached the edge of the light cast by the bonfire when a loud shout filled the air, "No!"

"Split up," Peter cried.

Edmund immediately began to veer to the left while Peter turned right but it was too late. A massive six-fingered hand materialized in front of Peter and he ran right into the sweaty palm. The fleshy cage closed around him and Morfran glared down at him. His dark beard didn't hide his rage as he picked up Edmund with his other hand. "I should bite your heads off. If you run again, little prizes, you will lose a leg or two." Then he shoved them into a bag hanging from his belt.

The coarse fabric reeked of sweat and Peter struggled not to let his face press into it even as he and Edmund were jostled about with every step the Giant took. He could hear the other Giants' odious laughter only somewhat muffled by the bag but they didn't seem to be arguing about how they were going to eat them anymore. He wished he knew what had happened to Culhwch but he had not seen the Ettin before Morfran stuffed them in the bag.

He lost all track of time. Edmund wasn't talking either. Both of them seemed to be at loss for any words that would be appropriate in their current situation. Peter's thoughts went to Thalia. His poor Flower. She would be heartbroken if they didn't return. And he didn't even have Oreius' assurance that his wife was carrying a child. Oh Aslan, Oreius. The Centaur would surely die before any patrol could track them. And it was all his fault. He shouldn't have left him. No one deserved to die alone.

Then the movement stopped and a shrill screech pulled Peter from his dark thoughts. He patted Edmund on the shoulder and his brother nudged him.

"Fine! Show them their prizes!"

Before Peter realized what that meant, the bag was jerked about and he went tumbling into the greasy folds of fabric. The smell was nauseating. Peter gagged but then light appeared directly beneath him and he let out a muffled yell. The fall was enough to daze him before Edmund landed on him with a muffled grunt.

"Idiots! They are nothing if you kill them with your clumsiness."

The voice was different from the others. A little softer and far more refined than all save Morfran. Peter opened his eyes and wished he hadn't. A Giantess with two heads stared down at him. Her larger head was cross-eyed and wore a stupid grin but the smaller head looked at him with keen intelligence and she smiled. "Nemain! Look!"

Another Giantess abruptly crouched down and grabbed him. She raised him to her face and he could see that one of her brown eyes was clouded. Her face split into a grin and fetid breath enveloped him as she laughed. "Prize. Purty prize be mine, Fea." Then she ran a rough and dirty thumb over his hair, pressing down to the point that Peter feared she would accidentally break his neck.

"Gently." The smaller head snapped before she smiled down at Edmund. "We must be careful with these prizes. They have a glorifying purpose to fulfill on behalf of Harfang."

Peter blanched.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Oh dear, they are in trouble. :D Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	6. Chapter Six: Struggling

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Six: Struggling

They stood in the middle of destruction. Broken trees, torn up turf, shattered spears, swords, and arrows . . . and dried blood stained it all. But there were no bodies. Alambiel surveyed the site. "You are certain you didn't find any blood belonging to the Kings or the General?"

The Greybacks were watching her closely, tails wagging. Remus grinned. "We didn't smell their blood but they made a lot of the Giants bleed."

Bast growled at them but Alambiel just nodded before she turned back to Pepin. The horse was standing still and she idly pet his forelock. The ambush was a week old now. They were getting a very late start on the trail.

"Kat? They're going to be all right."

She glanced over at Lucy. "They're all stubborn enough to survive even Ettins."

"Are they stubborn enough to survive Harfangers, Princess Alambiel?"

"Remus!"

The Wolf ducked his head at the shouts then looked up at her with earnest yellow eyes. "Well, King Edmund growls about the Harfang Giants more than he does the Ettins. How stubborn do you have to be to survive Harfang Giants?"

Alambiel laughed in spite of herself and rubbed the Wolf's ear. "As stubborn as they are, they can handle anything the Giants try to throw."

"Even tree trunks?"

"Remus!"

The Wolf yelped when Bast swatted him and darted around to hide behind Lucy. "It was on accident."

Alambiel smiled again then preoccupied herself with checking Pepin's legs. They had to wait for Thalia to bring back her report before they would decide on which path to take. Oreius' tracks had been half-destroyed by the Ettins pursuing him but it looked as though the boys had been carried off in a different direction.

"Queen Lucy, is Tarrin going to be your mate?"

She straightened in time to see Lucy blushing to the roots of her hair and Remus watching her with the same guileless interest he always showed when asking inappropriate questions. "I- We haven't discussed it." Then she abruptly pointed north. "Oh, there's Thalia now!"

Alambiel laughed softly as she watched Lucy rush to where the swirling leaves formed into her sister-in-law. Thalia's wildness did nothing to hide the way she worried at her lip. "I lost the General's trail."

"Where?"

The Beech Nymph looked at her uncertainly. "After I found two dead Ettins. I do not know where he went afterwards." She pointed to the eastern path. "The remains of a campsite lies that way. Giant by the size of it and . . ." She paused, turning pale and swallowing hard, before she whispered, "there were bones and bits of armor left behind."

A heavy silence hung over them all, even the Greyback brothers were subdued, as they realized the soldiers had been consumed along with the dumb beasts. The worst possible fate and the most grievous of crimes for Narnians. Alambiel drew a deep breath. "Then we need to make a decision. Do we continue on by stealth and get a better idea of the situation? Or do we send word to the patrols in the area and the nearest border outpost and gather our forces for a proper rescue?"

The Big Cats exchanged looks then Babur spoke up, "I saw ten Giants attack. Even if two are dead, there are still eight to contend with and that is only if they do not have others who joined them. We are too few in number to attack them and hope to succeed, especially if the General and the Kings are injured."

Thalia looked worried. "But we must find them."

Lucy nodded as she took her hand in hers. "And if they're injured, they might need my cordial. Any delays might hurt more than help."

There was truth enough in that. Alambiel surveyed the destruction once more. Injuries in the company of Fell Giants would be inevitable, especially if Edmund was in a snarky mood. She could only pray that Oreius had remained free and was already in the process of rescuing their kids. It would make things much simpler.

"Princess Thalia, are you worried about your mate?"

Thalia's answer was slow. "Yes, I am."

Romulus tilted his head. "How come?"

Remus perked his ears and started wagging his tail. "Are you having puppies?"

The Nymph just looked helplessly at Alambiel while Lucy tried and failed in preventing her giggles from escaping. Alambiel walked over and gently tapped the twins on the heads. "Will you two focus? This is not the time to ask inappropriate questions. And if you ask again, I'll make you both go visit Philip and his herd."

The Wolves whined, tucking their tails between their legs. "We're sorry."

Remus looked from her to Thalia with pleading in his round yellow eyes. "I only asked on accident."

"Well, we don't have any more time for accidental questions." Alambiel glanced up at the sky. The sun had already begun to drop low. "We've only two hours of daylight left. We need to make a decision quickly."

"What do you propose, Kat?"

She frowned, weighing the options and not liking any of them. Everything had more risks than gains. It was turning into a no-win situation. No, she wouldn't think like that, it would be too easy to give up if she did. "We press on, continue scouting the situation. We need an accurate number for the Giants and we need to know what condition Oreius and the boys are in. Once we know, we send to the outpost for help. They will bring at least two patrols with them. Are we in agreement?"

The other two women nodded, the awkwardness caused by Remus' questions forgotten in their determination to bring their missing loved ones home. Lucy grabbed the hilt of her dagger, blue eyes flashing with temper. "We are going to find them and stop these Giants too."

Alambiel smiled at the fierceness of her youngest kid. It had been almost boring in the three and a half years since they had stopped the Fell army with Markus' help. She looked around again. This wasn't exactly the kind of excitement _she_ would have asked for if she had been given any say in the matter but the Law of Murphy never listened to her. "How far to the Giant's camp?"

"Five or six hours. They moved slowly and returned here a number of times. Some of the tracks were not more three days old."

Collecting. That was just peachy. Alambiel pressed her lips together then nodded. "All right. All right, we won't make it there tonight but I won't camp here either. We press on. Oreius would have begun tracking the others as soon as he dealt with the two who followed him. It is possible we will come across him before we find the boys." She looked at the Beasts. "Stay alert but do not challenge anyone or let them catch sight of you. Romulus, Remus, scout ahead for a safe place to stop and make sure there's plenty of fresh water."

The Wolves leapt up, tails wagging furiously. "We'll find the best water!"

"I'll find the best den too!" Remus added. Then he bolted into the brush with his brother hot on his tail.

Alambiel rolled her eyes. "Ptah, make sure they don't cause too much damage. Bast, Babur, form a perimeter. Be ready to scout the area around wherever we camp. No more surprises for today please."

The Big Cats exchanged looks of disgust for the Wolves' continued lack of propriety then Ptah loped off after them. At least, she did not have to send Peter's Tigers. Their low tolerance for the Greyback brothers was best pressed on only when absolutely necessary. She swung up into the saddle and pointed Pepin toward the path. "Mount up you two."

Night had fallen by the time they reached the chosen campsite. In her heart, Alambiel had wanted to press on but the horses needed the rest. Even Pepin. Lucy and Thalia had been quiet. The remnants of the ambush no doubt still clung to their thoughts. But she had no words of comfort to offer them. Moving out a little ways from camp, Alambiel surveyed the barren landscape of Ettinsmoor. Their little alcove hid their party from easy sight but they had not dared to light a fire. She glanced up at the stars, partially concealed by the clouds, then looked out at the unforgiving boulders, ravines, and sparse, scraggly brush. A couple of leagues further west and there would be plains of dull grass and spindly trees. And somewhere in the maze of ravines, caves, valleys, and mountains directly ahead were Oreius, Peter, and Edmund . . . and more Giants than could be taken on safely.

She bit her bottom lip as she looked back up at the stars. Oreius had offered many times to teach her to read their dances, only half-teasing when he mentioned it was part of her heritage, but she had always refused. It had been so much more fun to listen to him read the stars and tell her the stories (only of some of them she didn't believe were anything more than his flirting). She always told him that and, until two years ago, she had mentioned that she would pick up a few things when he began teaching their foals. She had stopped mentioning foals after what had happened . . . and so had he. And now . . . Alambiel took a shaky breath. "Do you warn me that he's not going to come back? If you do, you are wrong."

But the feeling, the terrible niggling thought that she wasn't going to bring Oreius home except perhaps to bury him did not leave. If anything, it grew stronger. Alambiel whirled, drawing a knife, and then relaxed as the intruder wagged his tail. "Remus. What are you doing?"

"Looking for you."

"Why?"

"To ask a question."

She waited but he just sat there, wagging his tail and grinning with his pink tongue lolling. "Are you going to ask me your question?"

"Yes." Remus grinned at her. "Are you worried about the General because you're going to have a puppy?"

Alambiel could only shake her head in disbelief. "Remus, can you explain to me why you are always asking about puppies and mates when it is really not your business?"

"I like puppies." Remus wagged his tail then added thoughtfully, "And females always act strange when they're going to have puppies."

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"Keep fighting."

Oreius opened his eyes. He knew that voice. "Alambiel." He stretched a hand out in the direction he had heard her. The darkness made it difficult to see, though. "Alambiel."

She crept closer to him, moving strangely. "Keep fighting."

He smiled slightly, tasting blood again. "You are here."

She shook her head. "I'm a hallucination. And you know it."

"No."

"Yes. And I can prove it." She came closer and he could see that her stomach was swollen. She rested one hand on it. "See?"

He nodded then coughed. A groan immediately followed as the pain in his ribs increased and he could taste more blood. "You are with child. I hoped you were. I am- glad."

She raised a finger. "I am a hallucination. And even if you did leave me with a foal, I would not be this pregnant already. Try to remember that."

Oreius smiled. "Perhaps it is twins."

"Is that going to be your happy thought?" she queried. Then she shook her head, sighing in exasperation. "She will never forgive you if you die out here."

"I am trying to come back to you." His gaze sought the stars but the rock overhead blocked his view of the night sky. Perhaps that was for the best. "I am- trying."

"Not enough." She leaned closer, studying him. "Why didn't you tell Peter to have Stormwind look after her? He would be willing."

Oreius scowled. "Too willing!" He struggled to get up but his body refused and pain flared, dragging him back into unconsciousness and the realm of memory . . .

 _He had been more than eager to escape the confines of his quarters. Alambiel, fortunately, seemed just as happy to have him out from underhoof. A lingering headache was the only reminder of the concussion that had rendered him on bedrest for the past two days and it was certainly not enough to deter him from making an unofficial inspection of the Cair's defenses. Unfortunately, Alambiel had enlisted the High King to forbid him from returning to his duties for another day. He was going to invite Alambiel to come down to the beach later and then he would throw the little minx into the sea as she deserved for tying him down when the bedrest started._

 _Oreius lengthened his stride as he entered the lower gardens. The soldiers on duty were strategically placed and they acknowledged him as subtly as possible without giving away their positions. The diplomats visiting were behaving themselves as well. And King Edmund's Wolves were digging up the garden again. Oreius let out a long sigh and then went to find out where those pups were actually supposed to be . . ._

 _After sending the chastised, if not subdued, Greybacks to find the Just King, he decided he could afford to delay the rest of his inspection. It would keep his soldiers from becoming too lax by thinking they could predict his inspections. He had not gone very far down the beach when he heard his cousins' voices raised in heated argument. If he had to break up another of their scuffles . . ._

 _"_ _I saw how you were looking at her, brother. You can hardly deny anything."_

 _Stormwind's voice turned hard as he snapped, "I will deny it for as long as I live."_

 _Oreius frowned and quickened his pace. What filly had his cousin fallen for to cause such an argument between brothers? Firemoon snorted. "Will that make a difference?"_

 _"_ _It must!"_

 _"_ _What must?" Oreius noted with some amusement that both of his cousins started and looked as guilty as colts attempting to filch some tasty sweets (something they never dared to do in their grandam's house but they did with some of the aunts) when he rounded the little copse of bushes. "What filly has caught your eye, Stormwind? I did not think any would be able to lure you away from being a bachelor."_

 _Firemoon scowled. "One who has already been caught."_

 _Oreius raised both eyebrows while Stormwind cuffed his brother on the back of the head. "This is not the time to be loose-lipped, Firemoon." Then he turned back to Oreius. "It is nothing, Cousin."_

 _"_ _You are not planning to chase a filly who is already betrothed to another, are you?"_

 _"_ _No. She is married and I am not going to chase her. She would not respect me if I did and I do not wish to ruin the relationship I have with her husband." Stormwind pawed at the ground, flicking his tail, before he sighed and then looked Oreius in the eye. "I would hope that you will forgive my very foolish heart."_

 _Oreius shied back a step. He stared at his cousin in disbelief. "You mean to tell me that you have fallen in love with my wife?" His sharp gaze pierced his younger cousin. "And you knew of this?"_

 _Firemoon raised a hand, his eyes wide with alarm. "I only figured it out a fortnight past. But Stormwind would not-"_

 _"_ _He would not what? He would not love his own cousin's wife? He would not devise ways to be close to her? He would not betray my trust? Is that what you think of your brother, Firemoon? So did I until this moment." Oreius closed the distance between them, barely keeping his hands from his cousin's throat. "Does she know?"_

 _Stormwind shook his head. "How could she? I never speak of it. I could not speak of it." He reached out and placed a hand on Oreius' shoulder, gripping it tightly. "I am sorry but I will swear by Aslan that I have not and will not act on my foolish heart's desire. Even if I were such a fool as to do so, she would not have me and I would lose her respect as soon as I spoke."_

 _Oreius knocked his hand away. His cousin, the one he trusted most, the one whom he had always assumed would care for Alambiel in his absences and ensure that she was protected, desired her. Anger flared bright and he shoved Stormwind. "Stay away from her. And what of my trust? My respect? It seems that you do not place those very highly after all." He glared at him, breathing heavily as he clenched his fists. "And did you contrive to hit me during the exhibition? So you might comfort my widow?"_

 _"_ _Oreius, please!" Stormwind raised both hands and his tawny gaze was pleading. "You cannot think that of me. You know me-"_

 _"_ _Not as well as I had thought," Oreius cut in coldly. Never had he wanted to strike his cousin as much as in that moment. Rage churned and boiled through his veins, seeking expression, but he denied it. "Stay away from my wife, Stormwind. If I catch you lingering where you are not welcome, I will disregard our kinship entirely."_

 _"_ _Oreius." Stormwind looked pained as he shook his head. "What will Alambiel say should I abruptly leave off visiting? You know she will ask and if she asks, she will figure it out, and then she will be hurt. I do not wish to hurt her. And she needs as many close friends as she can find. But you need not fear that I will ever broach the topic of my feelings. She looks at me no differently than she does Stonebrook or Ardon or Tuulea and Stonebrook's sons or even that Leopard, Ptah. And the way she looks at me is very different from how she looks at you. She might be pleased to see me but she never lights up as she does when you come to her. Her heart is firmly in your grasp and she does not know that another heart has been laid at her hooves. Even you should be able to see that truth."_

 _The implication that he would fear Alambiel straying or that he thought she could fall in love with another while married to and loving him broke Oreius' fine thread of control. His hands were around Stormwind's throat before he registered Firemoon attempting to break his grip. Oreius squeezed once and then let go, chest heaving as he moved away._

 _He turned back to his cousin and pointed a single finger at him. "Alambiel would never betray our vows. And you would do well to consider visiting your herd for a length of time. Let us hope that when you return I will be able to tolerate the thought of you in the same vicinity of my wife, knowing that you feel for her as you should not."_

 _Stormwind nodded. "I will go. I am certain Grandam will welcome the news I can bring her of my brother's continued courtship of Tanith." He rubbed at his throat and then sighed. "Oreius, please believe me that I never planned to fall in love with Alambiel. I made a jest when you introduced us that I might attempt to steal her but it was meant in jest. Then after we came here and I spent more time in her company . . . It was something I denied to myself for some time. I did not even acknowledge it until after last year's tragedy and I watched her suffer so much during that time. And I realized it was not solely compassion I was feeling. Perhaps if we had met her at the same time and if she had not already committed her heart to you, then I would have tried to win her. But she chose you long before I met her and she is not the type to love briefly and move on. I respect her and I respect you too much to speak on this matter willingly. If I could have kept the truth from you, I would have because I know it pains you."_

"He kept his word. And if you leave behind a colt, shouldn't he have a Centaur to look after him and teach him your ways?"

Oreius opened his eyes and scowled at Alambiel. "Do you want to marry him?"

"Interesting. Do you think I want to?" She leaned in close and whispered, "I wonder have you ever doubted her in regards to Stormwind? You have been living with this secret for a year. Do you watch her interact with him and question her love for you?"

"No. We are going to have a foal. Alambiel might allow Stormwind to help raise a colt or she might summon the aid of others among our family and friends." He blinked slowly, feeling wearier than ever. "Alambiel, you are going to be a wonderful mama. I- I wish I could- see it."

"You don't know she is with child."

"I do." Oreius smiled. "I was- promised foals. Alambiel- you remember- it is our- comfort. We will- have foals."

Alambiel studied him with concern and mild curiosity. Despite the night's darkness, he could see her quite well now. "You are making very little sense. You need to tighten the bandages if you can. You're bleeding heavily again."

"I- am dying. You are going- to have a- foal."

"That logic is terrible. If she were here, Alambiel would smack you for saying such things." She frowned. "If I weren't a hallucination, I would smack you. Do not give up. You must keep fighting."

"I am- but I am- still dying." Oreius coughed, groaning as his broken ribs scraped against his lungs. He could taste fresh blood. One of his ribs must have punctured a lung after all.

Alambiel watched him, her hand still resting on her swollen belly. "Aslan promised you many children. A single foal is not many."

"Then you are carrying twins, a colt and a filly." He smiled at the thought. They would both take after their mama as far as coloring, or so he hoped. "Twins- would be- enough. I am sorry- I will not get- to meet them."

"Do not give up." She scowled at him, her eyes blazing with sudden wrath. "You saw what happened when you buried the colt. Do not make her bury you too. She needs you. Any foal she carries will need you. Do not give up."

Oreius reached toward her but his hand fell short. His gaze fell on the painting. Alambiel was smiling at him. He tightened his grip on the small painting. "I- love- you."

"Oreius. Do not give up. Do not give up!"

He closed his eyes and memory swept over him, lessening his awareness of the pain.

 _"_ _Oreius, guess what?"_

 _He chuckled as Alambiel came skipping around the trees. "I do not know. Tell me."_

 _"_ _We're running away."_

 _Oreius arched an eyebrow as she took his hands, still smiling up at him. "We are?"_

 _Alambiel nodded, still grinning and with mischief dancing in her blue gaze. "Yes, we are. For the rest of the day. Now come along. If you resist, I shall have to kidnap you."_

 _"_ _Much as I would enjoy running away with you, my sweet, I do have duties to tend. And I am expected at a meeting. It is also Thirdday."_

 _She tugged on his hands, still looking more than a little amused. "But that's the beauty of it! We run away today and no one suspects a thing. I might have implied to Peter that you and I were going to have a private debriefing that necessitates a priority over your other duties. Besides, there's nothing critical about that meeting. I checked. Come on."_

 _"_ _A debriefing? And the colt believed you?"_

 _"_ _Hey, we haven't seen each other in ten days and you didn't even come to see me this morn like a good husband should. We need to debrief. Come on." Alambiel tugged on his hands again. "Come on, my way of debriefing is going to be a lot of fun too."_

 _And who could resist such an invitation? Besides it was true that he had not been able to spend much time with her yet. Oreius allowed his minx of a wife to lead him to one of the secluded gardens. They did speak for a while but to his shame he kept dozing off. He startled awake at a soft touch and met Alambiel's amused gaze. She patted her blue velvet skirt. "Come here."_

 _It took very little effort to convince him. Oreius rested his head on his wife's lap and sighed in contentment when she began massaging his temples. "I missed you."_

 _"_ _I know. But it's nice to hear it." Then she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. She tasted sweet and rather like strawberries. "Sleep, Chuisle, I don't mind. And I promise to wake you before the hour grows too late."_

 _He had not intended to obey that command. However, Alambiel started humming and her fingers drew soothing circles against his temples. And her lap was soft. His eyelids drifted close and sleep snared him._

 _He dreamed of her voice in the darkness, calling to him, "Oreius, wake up! Keep fighting! Don't give up yet! You must keep fighting!"_

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Well, that was surprising. Next chapter: Giantesses! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	7. Chapter Seven: Fea

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Seven: Fea

There was nothing dignified about leashed like a little pet. Edmund stalked, face scowling, as he tried not to think about the dirty ribbon the two-headed Giantess had looped around his neck even as he lugged her stinky purse. And he was certain she kept yanking on the "leash" in order to trip him. She might have been shorter than the others, no more than eight feet tall but that was no relief. And blast Peter! His idiot brother must have run right into the Giants. And where was Oreius? Alive? Dead? Aslan only knew.

Edmund grumbled under his breath, "Blasted Giants."

The smaller head turned to look at him, her lips curling into a cruel smile, and then she yanked on the ribbon. He snarled at her as he barely caught himself before he could fall and probably strangle too. The stupid purse fell to the ground. The Giantess laughed, her larger head laughing the loudest and longest, while her small head smirked. "Don't break my pretties. Some are for you."

"For prize!" chortled the larger head.

Then she yanked on the ribbon again, dragging Edmund forward several paces. He scowled. "I'd be happy to carry your pretties if you actually had any. All I see is a bag of broken bits and pieces that are no bloody use to anyone! And it stinks. Don't you ever wash it?"

The Giantess laughed. Then she pat him on the head. Edmund swore but she only seemed more amused. The smaller head turned to the other Giantess. "And how does your prize behave, Sister Aunt? Will he be satisfying?"

Edmund glared as the cross-eyed Giantess turned abruptly, dragging Peter across the rocky soil. She grinned stupidly as she picked Peter up with both hands and then set him on her hip as though he were a doll. His brother was too busy wheezing to realize he should be outraged at the treatment. The Giantess patted him on the back with such force that Edmund winced (and hoped that Peter might be sick on her . . . it would serve her right). "Nice prize. Nemain like, Sister Niece."

"He's not going to be any good for anything if you keep choking him and dragging him about like that," Edmund snapped. His wrathful gaze returned to his captor. "If my brother dies, you die. And last I checked, the two of you were determined to use us as pack animals. We can't drag your slovenly excuses for purses through the dirt if you keep choking us and dragging us around."

She laughed. "You have fire. That is very good. That passes down to children."

Cold horror ripped through him, stealing his breath away. Children? Why would she- Then it all slid into place. The Harfangers clung to their seat of power through the claim of long-distant human blood in their veins. Their king, Borak, had wanted a marriage alliance some seven years past but he and Peter had refused. They had thought the matter dropped when the Fell Giants turned their attention to internal feuds and the occasional press into Narnian territory. It would seem they had been wrong. And now they planned to use him and Peter to . . . _Ugh!_

Nemain laughed and then tossed Peter in the air before catching him again and squeezing tight.

"Look they's just playin' again!" One of the Ettins shoved his way from where he and his fellows had been marching sullenly behind the Harfangers and then he snatched Peter away from Nemain. He dangled Peter upside and shook him then laughed. "Let's roast 'im! Ready a fire!"

Nemain stared at him and for a moment Edmund feared she would agree but then she shrieked. "Morfran! Morfran! Morfran!" She threw herself at the bigger Ettin, howling and beating him with her massive fists. "Purty prize mine! Purty mine! Morfran!"

The Ettin shoved her down and then swung Peter over his head. "Manling's for eatin'! Share 'er prize, hag!" He strode back toward the other Ettins, swinging Peter so his head brushed precariously close to the low boulders scattered along their chosen path. "Roast 'im, boil 'im, stick 'im in a pot! Eat 'im 'ot!"

The odious chant made Edmund lunge for him but the ribbon around his throat tightened and yanked him to the ground where he lay gasping for breath. "Peter."

He rolled over and got to his hands and knees. The Ettin still had a hold of Peter. He tried to get to his feet but the blasted ribbon was tangled around him and threatened to choke him with every move he made. Nemain let out another screech and then hurtled herself into the Ettin, not even caring that it made Peter bounce and brought his head dangerously close to a boulder. She was going to end up killing him in her quest to take him back. The Giantess howled, "No! Mine! Purty prize mine! Morfran! Morfran!"

The Ettin backhanded her only to let out a howl of his own as he was struck in the back by the butt of Morfran's spear. The dark Harfanger glared, his teeth flashing amidst his beard in an ugly grin as he kicked the helpless Giant, and then he slammed the butt of the spear against the Ettin's head. Nemain got up and jumped on the Ettin with both feet twice.

Edmund felt the ribbon go slack and he immediately crawled over to Peter. His brother was lying on his back, looking positively green beneath his unkempt beard. He grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "Peter?"

Peter opened his eyes, turned an even sicklier shade of green, and then rolled over just as the beaten Ettin put his hand down beside them. Edmund bit his lip to keep from laughing or cheering when Peter was promptly sick all over the Ettin's hand. The Ettin jerked back with an oath but the other Giants had forgotten their brewing fight in favor of laughing at their fellow's misfortune. Edmund grabbed Peter beneath his armpits and lugged the great lummox back out of the way of the swearing Ettin.

His brother's head was lolling around alarmingly but he was breathing steadily. "Eddie, I think- we need- to walk- more."

Edmund snorted. "Before or after they shake up what's left of your brain, numbskull?" A shadow swept over them and Edmund scowled up at the two-headed Giantess. "Well? You lot managed to shake him almost to the point of his brains running out his ears. We can't go any further tonight."

The small head nodded. "Morfran! We camp here tonight."

His black gaze suddenly turned on them and Edmund had to force himself to meet the malevolence in Morfran's beady eyes. He raised his chin slightly and glowered right back. Morfran turned to the two-Headed Giantess. "Keep Nemain and her prize close, Fea. We want no more stealin'." His gaze returned to Edmund as he added, "Your prize will cause trouble."

 _You bet I will._

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! In case you were wondering, the Ettins' food chant was inspired by the Goblins in Tolkien's _The Hobbit_. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	8. Chapter Eight: Carnage

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eight: Carnage

The camp was in disarray, a Giant-sized cooking pot had been left lying on its side, broken pieces of bone and cracked armor were scattered across the ground, and several abandoned weapons still lay among the ashes. The Big Cats stood with their ears flat against their skulls and their fur bristling. Bast looked around and growled, "Not even enough to identify them."

"Or afford a proper burial," Babur added darkly.

"But what of Peter and Edmund?" Lucy asked, gripping Thalia's hand, as they stood together. "And is there-"

Remus' howl of excitement cut her off. "I found the General! I found the General!"

Alambiel's heart leapt into her throat as she ran to where the Greyback brothers were sniffing around the mouth of another ravine. But Oreius was nowhere in sight. Instead, messy streaks of dried blood stained the rocky ground. The ground that was too hard to hold hoofprints or footprints bore blood easily enough. The Greyback brothers looked at her, tails wagging. Remus grinned, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Look how much the General made the Giants bleed! See, Princess Alambiel? See?"

She scowled at them. "You said you found him."

Remus, seeming to sense that he was in more trouble than not, ducked his head a little. "Well, we only found some of his blood too."

"But there's much more of the Giants' blood," Romulus added helpfully.

"And there were a lot more of them so the General could have bled more," his brother added far less helpfully. "But now we have a good trail to follow and he's not bleeding a lot."

Alambiel turned away from them, unable to bring herself to say anything when all she wanted to do was yell at them that finding Oreius' blood and no Oreius actually wasn't very comforting right now. They meant well. They meant well. She looked over the camp again. The burnt log that bracketed either side of the ravine they had come through would have blocked escape to the south before it had been shattered in the middle (no doubt by one or more Giants throwing a tantrum). Oreius and the boys would have had no other option except to go north.

She motioned to the others. "Come on."

"Kat? Do you think they might have escaped?"

Lucy's question was more hesitant than before and Alambiel could tell that she wanted desperately to latch onto that frail hope. But it was hard to argue with experience when Fell Giants were involved. Alambiel's mouth twitched into the faintest of smiles. "Anything is possible, Lucy. And obviously they did escape once. The question is whether they managed to stay that way. There is a trail we can follow. If we are all very fortunate, we'll catch up with the three morons and scold them right back to Cair Paravel."

Lucy giggled. "Even Oreius?"

"Especially Oreius." Personally, she planned to ground him. And she would use a lot of rope to make sure he stayed where she put him this time too. Yes, that's what she was going to do. Section off where in Cair Paravel Oreius was allowed to go without supervision and that was it until he promised not to put her through this again. Alambiel pulled her healing kit from the saddlebag and then slung it over her shoulder. If there were injuries, she didn't want to have to even take the time to run back to Pepin before she could help.

She did not speak of her own doubts or that nagging fear that the Kentauri might not have survived his attempted rescue of his colts. The trail began to paint a less than encouraging story though as they walked past bloodstains that were growing in size and frequency and that were definitely Oreius'. It was clear to her that Oreius had been doing his best to keep the Giants from immediately catching the boys again. But at what cost to himself?

The feeling of dread began to coil around her heart squeezing tighter and tighter when the wind shifted and the Beasts began coughing right before her eyes began to water. She gagged as the rotten stench grew stronger. Lucy and Thalia's horses began to prance, shying back, and tossing their heads up as their nostrils flared and eyes rolled. Pepin snorted his displeasure but his training kept him calmer than the others. Still, all three of the women swung down from the saddles and the horses were tethered at a safe distance with the Wolves ordered to watch over them. The stench provided some forewarning of what would be around the bend. Alambiel buried her nose in her sleeve as she examined the dead Ettin from a distance but it was everything that concerned her. She dropped her arm, forgetting to mind the surrounding smell, as she took in the alarming amount of dark blood staining the ground from in front of the Giant's body to the edge of the cliff.

Ptah stood next to the largest bloodstain, his ears flat and his whiskers drooping, and he hung his head before he looked at her. He gave it a slow shake. But she could not accept it. She would not accept it. Then her gaze caught on a blade just barely poking out from beneath the Giant's hand. She knew that sword. Oh Aslan, she knew that sword.

Ignoring the horrid stench of death, Alambiel ran forward to draw the claymore out. Its fine blade was covered in the Ettin's dried blood. She clutched the hilt and then slowly backed away from the Ettin's body. Whirling around, she met Ptah's gaze. "Is it all his?"

The Leopard nodded. "Yes, My Lady."

Her grip tightened on the sword. She could not think the worst. Not yet. "Thalia!" The other two young women started and failed to hide their pitying gazes from her. Alambiel frowned a little but she pushed the irritation aside for now. "Thalia, scout the ravine below for any sign of Oreius. It's still possible that all three are right here."

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He wasn't sure what had drawn him away from his dreams, his memories of Alambiel. Pain and thirst plagued him. He reached for the water bag but it was empty. The painting was still in his other hand. He stared at her wishing she would come talk to him one last time. He closed his eyes again.

Then something made him open them again. He raised his head as best he could and saw them. Shadows. Two slender shadows accompanied by Big Cats. "Here."

They didn't come to him. Oreius licked his chapped lips, tasting blood. "Here." He caught the glimpse of bright green leaves floating just around the corner. It was Frostmoon. The leaves should have been yellow or brown. A Dryad. "Here." The leaves rose on the wind and then a third slender shadow appeared.

"You have to call louder, Kentauri."

He turned his weary gaze to Alambiel. She was sitting next to him again, one hand on her rounded belly. She leaned toward him. "Call louder. Make them hear you."

For her sake, he would try. "Here." But his voice came out in little more than a raspy whisper. The shadows were moving around, the Big Cats had already disappeared. The slender shadows still stood near enough for him to see them. They were almost directly above him. They had to be. "Here."

The slender shadows moved away, first two and then the last one also moved away. He had failed. They had been so close and he had failed.

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Alambiel clutched Oreius' claymore. She had already cleaned the Ettin's dried blood from it but it wouldn't be right until she could give it back to Oreius. It was an heirloom of their house, passed from father to son for generations. She didn't let her torment show though as she listened to Thalia's report. "You are certain there was no sign of him?"

The Beech Nymph met her eyes only briefly before she turned away. "I'm sorry, Alambiel. I found a massive bloodstain to the right of these boulders but I could find no tracks."

Lucy touched Alambiel's arm. "The Giants must have carried him off. I'm so sorry, Kat." She swallowed hard, the wind blowing her honey-brown hair, as she looked anxiously over to where the Beasts were waiting at the northern end of the ravine. "We can still rescue Peter and Edmund though. They must be taking them to Harfang." She frowned. "I just wish I knew why."

Alambiel nodded, not letting herself show how her heart was crumbling. "Then we go north." Her gaze fell on the signs of struggle so near the Ettin's bloated body. "I will catch up with you in a moment. Have Ptah wait for me at the mouth of the ravine."

"All right." Lucy squeezed her arm. "Take as much time as you need."

There would never be enough time. But she said nothing as the others moved away. Her thumb traced a pattern along the flat of the claymore's blade again. Tears blinding her as she tried not to sob. First her baby then her husband and she didn't even know if she might carry another little one, a memory of her Kentauri, her Chuisle. She wouldn't know for several more weeks. She was going to have to place Oreius' claymore in the case with her grandsire's claymore. The tears she had been fighting finally broke free and slid down her cheeks as she looked at the chasm one last time. She wished they had found his body; at least, she could have buried him. She would ask the Four for permission to add Oreius' name to the plaque for Amatus even if they insisted on a plaque in the soldiers' memorial garden. A sob escaped her and then she pressed a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, Oreius. I'm sorry. Tell Amatus how much I love him."

But she couldn't let herself break. Not yet, not here. When she returned home to Cair Paravel or perhaps she would go to the cabin first, but when she was alone and none save Aslan and His Father would bear witness to her tears was when she would allow herself to grieve. Now, she needed to be strong. She needed to be cold and untouched. For Peter and Edmund's sakes, she would cling tight to her walls and defenses. And for Oreius' sake . . . Swiping her eyes with her sleeve, she whispered, "We're going to get your colts back. I won't let you die in vain. I promise."

Then she finally moved away from the place where her husband had given his life.

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"Call! You have to call louder!"

Oreius opened his eyes to see Alambiel beside him. "I can't." His gaze dropped to her swollen belly. "Take care- Take care of our little one or ones." He offered a crooked smile. "Let them still have a mama even though their da is gone."

"You can't leave her alone. It will destroy her. You know what happened when the colt was lost. What will it do to her to lose you?"

Oreius took a breath. It was becoming more difficult to concentrate. "You have our little one or even twins. They need you. You will live for them."

He reached for her, to rest his hand on her belly, wanting to feel the foal's kicks once before the end. But she was too far away. He allowed his hand to drop to the ground. "Forgive me for leaving you, Sweet. Forgive me for our foal's sake." He took another breath and whispered, "For- give me."

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She had almost reached Ptah when she stopped in her tracks. "Thalia!" She ran to the Beech Nymph and grabbed her by the arms. "Did you check under the ledges? Did you check there?"

"No." Thalia's light green eyes were wide with alarm. "There was no trail."

Alambiel whirled around. "The ledges."

"Wait!"

She ignored the cry. They hadn't searched everywhere. They hadn't searched everywhere. Oh no. Alambiel raced to the chasm. She heard the cries behind her, calling for her to wait but she couldn't, not when there might be the slightest chance that he was alive somewhere in that ravine. She felt Ptah try to snag her skirt just as she reached the edge but she jumped out of reach.

She landed heavily and fell to her knees, Oreius' claymore clattering to the rocky ground. "Oreius?" Ignoring the sting to her palm and knees, she rose, her gaze sweeping the shadowed areas beneath the ledges. Her chin trembled when she did not see him. She had to find him. "Chuisle? Can you hear me?"

She turned in a full circle. Where would she hide a wounded Centaur? "Oh Aslan, give me the eyes to see."

Where was he? Where was she not looking?

She backed up, trying to see the path of least resistance for Sons of Adam moving or at least helping to move an injured Centaur. She refused to think about how much blood he'd lost during the struggle with the Ettin or the blood trail they had followed to this point. He had to be here and he had to be alive.

She stepped back further and heard a barely audible groan. Whirling, she let out a sob of relief to see Oreius. He looked horrible and there was a vulture pecking at him, tearing into his flesh. Alambiel ran to him, relieved when the filthy scavenger hopped away at her approach. Her relief swiftly turned to dismay as she knelt beside him. She couldn't tell if he was breathing. "Oreius? Oreius, wake up for me, Chuisle. Wake up."

He didn't stir. Alambiel pressed her fingers against his neck and had to press hard to find his thready pulse. Running back out to the main path through the ravine, she screamed, "Thalia! Thalia! Get the cordial! He needs the cordial!"

She turned back to Oreius only to see the vulture had returned and was ripping into his wounds again. She snatched up a rock and threw it at the bird, shouting, "Get away from him!" The vulture flew off and she raced back to Oreius, already pulling her healing kit open. "Oreius?" There was a mix of blood and pus dribbling from the largest wound that was only partially concealed by the filthy makeshift bandages. She cut through the bandages and gasped at the sight. It was much worse than she had feared. The wound was obviously inflamed with gangrene fast developing. The Kentauri groaned as she cleaned his wounds as best she could even though she spilled quite a bit of the solution onto the ground with her nervous shaking.

Alambiel closed her eyes against the sight but only for a moment before she shifted so she could touch Oreius' cheek. "Oreius, wake up. Come on, Kentauri, wake up."

He did not respond.

She leaned closer and pressed feather-light kisses against his forehead, cheeks, nose, and mouth. His eyelids fluttered for the briefest of moments but it gave her a little hope. "Oreius?" He didn't open his eyes but his right hand suddenly clamped on her arm and then slid up to her shoulder. Tears stung her eyes as she gently stroked his cheek, feeling the rough stubble where he was usually smooth-shaven. "Oreius, wake up and talk to me. Please. Please, Chuisle, wake up."

One bloodstained corner of his mouth tilted up and his hand shifted from her shoulder to her neck. He squeezed gently but only once. Alambiel called his name again and he gave a gasping breath. But then he whispered, "Alambiel . . ."

"Oreius?" She watched his face for any hint he was coming out of unconsciousness. "Oreius, can you hear me?"

"Alambiel- Love- you- I- lo-" He gasped again without ever opening his eyes and then his hand fell from her shoulder. He did not respond when she called to him.

She placed her fingers against his neck and nearly sobbed when she couldn't feel his pulse anymore. "Lucy! Lucy! We need the cordial! Lucy!" She heard scrambling overhead and then behind her but all she could do was cradle Oreius' face between her hands. "No, please. Oreius, stay with me. Oreius, stay here with me. Just hold on. Help is here. Come on, Kentauri, don't do this to me. Stay. I need you to stay with me." She glanced over her shoulder and shouted, "Lucy!"

Thalia raced to her, the diamond vial extended in front of her. "Alambiel!"

Alambiel snatched it out of her hand and carefully poured a drop into Oreius' mouth, trying not to shake from the force of her unvoiced sobs. Thalia took the vial back but Alambiel didn't move away, her eyes were focused on the Centaur, on watching him for any sign that he had been healed. She pressed her hand against his throat, praying that they hadn't been too late. She couldn't feel his pulse. Oh Aslan, she couldn't feel his pulse yet.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! MUWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA! Next chapter shall be very interesting. :D Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	9. Chapter Nine: Prepare

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Nine: Prepare

Susan moved through the halls of Cair Paravel as quickly as she could without running. Her mouth hurt from all the smiles she had forced herself to give every day since Kat, Lucy, and Thalia had left. She had barely kept herself from summoning Ardon every hour to inquire if any word had been sent from the north but that would give away that something was wrong. Kat's wandering off during the middle of preparations for diplomats who were known to be fussy was not unusual. In fact, it would have caused more eyebrows to be raised had she not left, especially without Oreius being present to make her behave herself. Lucy too would conveniently disappear whenever she felt she was of no help during such preparations. But Thalia's absence was being noticed more and more, for though the Beech Nymph would periodically retreat to her father's grove, she rarely did so when it would leave Susan to handle all of the preparations herself. She felt it was inconsiderate to do so.

Oh she wished she had insisted they take a Bird or Bat to act as messenger. Perhaps then she could do more than sit at home and wait for word. If the Calormenes were not due so soon and if someone had not had to remain behind to see to the running of the kingdom, she would have gone after them all. Instead, she had to wait and pray.

"Your Majesty?"

Susan glanced up to see a little Dove fluttering her wings as she settled on an unlit sconce. "Yes?"

"The Mermaid Syrena has come to the lower pavilions with news for you, Queen Susan."

"Thank you, Paloma."

She tarried only long enough to send a Humming Bird in search of Leeta with instructions for that Nymph to join her at the lower pavilion. Rushing down to the pavilion, Susan could not help fearing the news the Mermaid brought. After all, she had asked the Merfolk to keep as close a watch on the north as they could manage with winter coming. The Mermaid was waiting with her slender pale arms braced on the edge of the pavilion. The afternoon sun reflected off her silver scales and her blue-green hair glistened. Susan curtsied and then knelt on the floor. "Lady Syrena, I was told you have news for me."

The Mermaid bowed her head. "I do, Gentle Queen." Her gaze flicked to someone behind her and Susan knew that Leeta had arrived. When she did not speak, Lady Syrena bowed her head once more. "One of my sisters has brought word from our kin in the southern waters regarding the Calormene ship being a Calormene prince. The ship is yet docked in Terebinthia's harbor but they intend to set sail for Cair Paravel within four days."

It took everything in her to keep from springing up at the news. The Calormenes coming early! Susan swallowed hard, recalling the politely worded and long-winded threat from the Tisroc that promised retribution should his son be insulted by the absence of any of the royal family. For this prince was the current heir apparent. And as it was, she was the only royal not wandering Ettinsmoor! She had yet to finish the demanded preparations for the coming visitors either. And if Peter and Edmund weren't there to greet Prince Rabadash . . . The Tisroc would likely see it as a sign of weakness, especially if he learned her brothers' absence was due to Giants abducting them.

Well, she would just have to see that the Calormenes didn't reach Cair Paravel before her family returned. Susan rose, took a deep breath, and then turned to Leeta. "Do I recall correctly that the Princess Royal put certain safety measures in place should we need to ensure a delay in our guests' arrival?"

The Nymph's black eyes twinkled as she bowed her head. "She has set a number of 'ill omens' in place, My Queen. They need only to be alerted that their services are now required."

Susan nodded, allowing herself a small smile. She knew just the 'ill omen' that would prove most effective. Turning back to Syrena, she did not hesitate to ask, "Would you arrange for a message to be sent to Blodeuwedd?"

"It shall be done, Gentle Queen."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	10. Chapter Ten: Find Hope

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Ten: Find Hope

Nights in Ettinsmoor's barren canyons were cold, far colder than she was accustomed to when it was still early in Frostmoon. But the cold crept over the ground and sank into her, biting into her very roots with almost as much force as the axe wielded by fear. Thalia sat with her back against Bast's warm bulk but even the Tigress' presence did not bring comfort. She only reminded her of Peter's absence.

Thalia scanned the little makeshift camp. Lucy was curled up with the Greyback brothers snuggled on either side of her, completely immune to their snores and occasional whines and whimpers. Ptah was on watch and she could barely see his outline as he perched atop a large boulder. Babur was dozing near the horses, ensuring the silly beasts she and Lucy had ridden would not spook during the night and flee (for Pepin's training kept him patiently waiting). The General remained where they had found him. Though the cordial had healed his physical wounds, he still had not woken and there was the unspoken fear that he simply would not. The Princess Royal stayed by his side, barely eating, as she waited for him to show some sign of rising. Even now, though her breathing had slowed in sleep, the Princess Royal stayed with him, holding him in her arms so his head rested on her breast while she kept one hand over his heart, measuring every breath he took. Should there be any change in the Centaur's condition, she would know it immediately.

Thalia's own concern turned increasingly to her husband and her brother-in-law. Fell Giants were feared by Narnians. They had no respect for life, for Aslan's creation, or His sanctions protecting all sentient beings no matter their form. They destroyed, consumed, and despoiled. And they had Peter. She prayed to Aslan that the Giants would not uproot her strong oak. But fear and anxiety would not cease gnawing at her. The sense that time was running out hung on her like moss had crawled up her Tree and now dangled from the branches.

Rising silently, Thalia looked up at the half-moon then closed her eyes. A tug on her skirt interrupted her concentration. She looked down to meet the glowing eyes of Bast. The Tigress' teeth were clamped in her skirt. "Let go."

She did so but the look in her eyes was one that bespoke a predator only a breath away from pouncing. The Tigress' growl was low as she rasped, "You cannot leave."

Thalia glanced around, reassuring herself that no one else had awakened, then she crouched down to better face Bast. "I am the only scout who will not put them in danger."

"Wait."

"No. It will be two days tomorrow afternoon since the cordial was given to the General and he shows no sign of waking. The Giants could be at Harfang any day. We must find out where they are now."

"But the General-"

"Will not have new information."

Thalia rose once more but paused as Bast muttered, "The High King would not approve."

"Then he should not have been captured." Unwilling to wait another moment, she dispelled her corporeal form and rose into the night sky. She had to find them.

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The ground trembled beneath him a little as the jarring snores of fourteen Giants raked across his nerves. Peter didn't move as he stared up at the night sky. The Giantesses had forced him and Ed to lie down between them and they had placed their purses in the space between their feet and their heads, successfully blocking the brothers in, and the ribbons that were still tied around their necks were also wrapped around the Giantesses' wrists. Peter reached up one hand to tug at the knot, taking care not to pull too hard and risk waking Nemain. He could not and would not stay here. They needed to get back to Narnia. They needed to get help for Oreius . . . if the Centaur hadn't died yet.

He forced the morbid thought away and focused on tugging the knot loose. It seemed to take hours as he struggled not to give into impatience and yank on the miserable leash but finally, Aslan be praised, it came loose and slipped off his neck. He froze when he heard the sole guard let out an obnoxiously loud belch then he rolled over onto his hands and knees and crawled to the purse between the Giantesses' feet then peered over it. An Ettin was slouched against a boulder, a large club lay in his lap, but his focus was clearly on guzzling the foul wine as he raised the wineskin to his mouth with both hands and drank with noisy gulps. Peter watched the Ettin swipe his mouth on his sleeve before immediately returning to his drink with a mix of disgust and hope. The slovenly fellow could be their one chance of escape.

The Ettin's drinking finally began to slow as his head started sagging. Peter tensed. Then a shadow next to him moved. Edmund, also ribbon-free, crouched next to him. They glanced at each other and then returned their attention to the drunken Ettin. Cold seeped into their clothes, biting down to the skin, was unseasonable even for early Frostmoon but it did serve to keep them too uncomfortable to fall asleep. Peter's gaze eventually drifted to the stars above them, seeking Spearhead who would lead them home to Narnia. Judging by the stars' dances, it was still four or five hours until dawn. Their captors were not early risers either. And they always wasted at least an hour arguing over breakfast choices (and why he and Edmund were still not menu options). If he and Edmund could get out of camp and remain undetected long enough . . .

A sharp jab to his ribs pulled Peter's attention back to the situation at hand. Edmund glared at him and then nodded to the guard. Peter bit back a cheer at the sight of the Ettin slumped over with the depleted wineskin in hand and wine dribbling over his unkempt beard as snores reverberated from his open maw. He glanced at Edmund and nodded. Now was the time to act.

They clambered over the purse and then remained crouched as they crept past sleeping Giants and the ashy remains of the fire pit. Peter counted every step and winced every time the Giants moved or snorted in their sleep. Just one Giant waking would doom their escape. Remembering all the lessons Oreius had drilled into him about balancing his weight out and keeping his steps soundless (this still did not sufficiently explain how Oreius could simply appear without his iron-shod hooves making a sound), Peter did not breathe easy until they finally rounded a bend in the canyon and the camp was out of sight.

He immediately pulled Edmund into a bone-crushing hug, grinning when his little brother shoved him away. Edmund was not amused as he glared. "No time for mush, Pevensie. Come on."

Peter grinned, simply happy that they had made it out of camp, but the thought of being captured again, of being forced back into the company of Giants quickly sobered him. His acute relief was no doubt due to the physical and emotional strain since they were first ambushed. But this was not the time for such things, not if he ever wanted to get home to Narnia and to Thalia again. They didn't dare run for fear of the noise should they knock against any loose rocks but Peter eagerly set the pace to a fast jog. The noise of the sleeping Giants seemed to linger for far too long but then there was silence. No rumbling. No belching. Or any other menacingly unpleasant sounds. Only the quiet sounds of insects. If only they could hear the familiar sounds of Narnia already.

The bruises he had collected during the Giants' rough treatment ached and tempted him to slow his pace but Peter refused. They had to reach Oreius, determine his condition, and then get help for moving the Centaur. Then Peter was going to gather the army and knock the entire lot of Northern Giants into such a daze that they won't dare menace Narnians ever again. Never again. His jaw clenched as he recalled Babur being broken, soldiers dying, soldiers being eaten alive, Oreius receiving fatal wounds, Oreius telling him about the little foal who would probably never know his or her father, and so many other innocents who had died at the hands of the Ettins and Harfangers. No, this would not continue. Aslan willing, this would never happen again.

The sky was stained pink and orange when he heard it. A harsh horn sounding in the distance. Edmund swore and Peter grimaced. The Giants had found their trail.

They came to a stop in front of a crossroads. Three trails led south. Peter turned and clasped forearms with his brother. "To Narnia."

"To Narnia," Edmund echoed. His grip on Peter's forearm was painfully tight before he let go and raced down the left-most passage.

Peter breathed a prayer for Aslan's protection as he watched his brother disappear. The horn sounded again, harsh and even closer than before. Peter ran into the right-hand canyon. Aslan willing, they would confuse and divide the Giants enough that the brutes would give up the notion of having him and Ed as prizes.

A hideous laugh erupted just as he emerged into a bowl-shaped gulley. Peter groaned and spun to see one of the Ettins lumbering toward him. His jaw clenched. He was not going to be taken prisoner again. He was not. Peter let out a shout of his own and ran for the Ettin. The brute stumbled, gaping foolishly as he watched Peter rush him. Peter didn't give him the chance to recover. He leapt forward, landing with both feet on the Giant's instep. The Ettin howled in pain and dropped into a crouch as he reached for his foot. Peter yanked the carving knife from the Giant's belt. It was awkward and unwieldy but Peter didn't need to wield it. He just needed to drive it. With another shout, he lunged, spearing the Giant's foot with the knife and cutting a furrow into the webbing between the Ettin's thumb and forefinger. The Ettin howled again and swatted down blindly. Peter rolled away as the Ettin's hand landed squarely on the hilt of his knife, driving it further into his foot.

Scrambling upright, Peter did not permit himself to celebrate as he fled. He had to get out of the open. He had almost reached the next canyon when two more Giants appeared. The Ettin chased him, club raised, while the Harfanger was in between him and the canyon. Peter rushed the Harfanger with the Ettin fast behind. He really hoped this worked. He dropped and slid between the Harfanger's legs. Scrambling to his feet, he glanced over his shoulder just as the Ettin's club connected with Harfanger's gut. The Harfanger swore and punched the Ettin. In moments, the two Giants were wrestling, calling childish insults, swearing, and landing as many punches as they could. Peter had been forgotten.

Spinning around, he raced into the canyon. He no longer tried to stay stealthy. He needed distance more than anything else. He had to get away. The sound of the fight was growing fainter. He would find Ed and then they would get to Oreius. They would make it to freedom, true freedom.

Peter rounded the bend and stumbled to a painful halt. Fea was sitting on a boulder, blocking the only way forward. Both heads turned to look at him. Mirror grins bloomed but the smaller head's smile carried a cunning not shared by her sister head's oafish grin.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! MUWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA! Poor Peter in trouble again. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	11. Chapter Eleven: Ill Omen

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eleven: Ill Omen

The Calormene ship bearing His Royal Highness Crown Prince Rabadash, eldest living son of the Tisroc (may he live forever), was a resplendent affair. The finest timbers formed her hull and gold foil lined her rails and the cabins appointed to the crown prince were filled with the finest silks, most beauteous tapestries evoking scenes of Calormene mythology and history from Tash's first battle to Rabadash's slaying of a thousand southern rebels when they slew the Tisroc's eldest son and attempted to remove themselves from their rightful place beneath Calormene boots, and the softest pillows. His soldiers, his slaves, and the ship's crew knew to conduct themselves with utmost propriety as Prince Rabadash wanted no ill-favored word to reach the Northern Barbarians. He had great hopes for the fruitfulness of his newest quest. The famed beauty of the eldest Barbarian Queen was too tempting for any man to miss seeing and perhaps winning for his own.

The Crown Prince's goal of winning a wife was well-known to his men but it did not stop them from fearing the demon when it appeared just before dawn on the day they were to set sail from Terebinthia's harbor. Ghostly it was, white as the goddess of death herself, and its wings stretched wide ushering ill winds and foul spirits before it. Wide dark eyes hungered for men's souls as it watched them unblinkingly from its perch upon the ship's wheel. The captain pulled the amulets of Nasreddin, Tash, and Circe out of his tunic and presented them to the demon but it never moved. For three hours it refused to move and the sun had risen before the captain resigned himself to the task of informing the Crown Prince.

It was a small mercy of Tash that Prince Rabadash was breaking his morning fast when the captain entered the cabin. He immediately went on his knees and then stretched out so his face was on the floor. "O My Master, an ill omen has come upon us. We cannot sail today."

"What mean you, O Captain of the Seas? Did my father the Tisroc (may he live forever) choose unwisely when he selected you for your experience and wisdom as though the secrets of the waves were whispered in your ear by Circe herself?"

The captain shuddered internally. "No, O My Master, your father the Tisroc (may he live forever) chose with all the wisdom Tash granted him. Yet, O My Master, a demon of ill omen by the goddess of death herself has been sent to you warning against sailing. If we were to sail under this omen, O My Master, calamity will rise from the depths of the seas to swallow all of us. For was it not the poet who said-"

"Be silent!" Prince Rabadash leapt from his cushioned pedestal, tugging on his oiled beard in agitation. "Quote not the poets to me, O Captain, but show me this demon." He snatched up his scimitar and unsheathed the etched blade.

The captain bit back a protest. Demons could not be killed and to attempt to slay one sent by the goddess of death was to invite her wroth curse. No one escaped the death goddess' curse, not when even speaking her name would bring her fatal attention on one.

Instead, he followed in the crown prince's wake and petitioned the gods that the young man would not make a foolish and deadly choice. The demon was still perched on the wheel, its head rotated around to watch their approach with the same unblinking stare as before. Prince Rabadash approached it, his face dark with anger, and he raised his scimitar. The captain raised a hand to still the cries of alarms from the men. The Crown Prince sneered. "The goddess of death sent you but Tash is the king of all gods and goddesses. I am his descendent in an unbroken line. Begone, demon, take your ill omen to the ships of our enemies!"

The demon stretched out its wings and let out a single raspy screech. The captain could almost see the ill winds fanning over the crown prince and his ship. They were doomed. The Crown Prince swore and then abruptly sheathed his sword. Stomping down the stairs, he paused before the captain. "O Captain of the Seas, inform your men to set a slave to watch the demon. When it departs we will sail for the great barbarian capital."

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Blodeuwedd twisted her head to watch the flamboyant Calormene depart the ship with his guard and all but two of his slaves following after him. The ship's crew did not wait long after his party vanished into the city before they too fled the ship. She trilled a little laugh and then flapped her wings, making the two remaining slaves hide their faces again. Satisfied, she settled down on the ship's wheel.

When the Princess Royal had requested the favor of her willingness to act as an ill omen among Calormenes, she never thought to be presented with a Calormene prince. She had only frightened and delayed slavers before now. Blodeuwedd preened her feathers. As agreed with the Mermaid carrying Queen Susan's request, she would nest here for three more days and then she would allow the Calormenes to leave . . . but the Owl decided that she would not depart until after the evening tide had gone on that final day.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	12. Chapter Twelve: Disclosure

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twelve: Disclosure

Fea let out a nasty laugh as she leered at him. Peter wasn't sure what was more disturbing, the way her larger head's cross-eyed gaze stared at him or the cunning look in the smaller head's eyes. They could not have planned it. Surely she wasn't that clever. Surely, she hadn't arranged this as some sort of . . . some sort of game!

The Giantess laughed again and then poked him in the chest with two blunt fingers. The force of the blow was enough to force him to stumble back, though he managed to stay on his feet. "Clever prize."

Her larger head laughed. "Prize!"

The smaller head smirked. "But not clever enough. The dark prince is much better because he still leads my brother-uncle and others on hunt. You are taller but not smarter than the dark prize."

Peter clenched his fists. "A test? This was all some sort of test?"

Fea nodded and pride glinted in her eyes as she placed one hand on her chest. "My test. We needed to know which of you was better suited to be mine, which was smarter. The dark prince is smarter. Though you are smart too."

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The sun was only just beginning to lighten Ettinsmoor and its rays finally began to spill down into the canyons and ravines. The wind buffeted over boulders and swirled through the ravines from the south. There was hardly any wildlife in the area, perhaps because of the Giants' presence. None were around to notice the leaves riding the winds or that their color was wrong for fall, the bright green was far more suited to spring. Thalia searched the dismal terrain below with hope that defied logic. She could not believe that two warriors like her Peter and his brother would let themselves ignore opportunities for escape and Giants were slow-witted enough that there must have been opportunities. If she could find them, she could lead them to the others.

A harsh horn sounded in the distance, the same ones that had first led her in this direction. They were further east than before. She would have to change direction. Thalia began to exert her will but then she heard a familiar voice filled with righteous indignation, "We are not pieces for a game."

Peter! The cold that seeped through her, freezing her very roots, cracked and began melting beneath the warmth of the sun. Turning against the wind, she followed his voice west until she stopped on the edge of a canyon. Peter was standing half in shadow with his back to her but he was alive and he did not look as though he had suffered too much hurt. Thalia's leaves swirled as she started to resume her corporeal form and she nearly called out but then a deep female voice spoke, "You are prizes for the most important game in Harfang."

Thalia banished her shape formed of leaves and hovered lower to the ground, hiding behind an outcropping as Peter backed up. A two-headed Giantess followed. Dark lank hair crowned both heads and heavy necklaces of stone and rough-hewn jewels hung from her necks, but it was the smaller head who was speaking. "Harfang needs to be stronger. We need to conquer Ettins too. The other clans will fall to us when we do. They are not smart like us."

Peter was backing away slowly and Thalia wished she could do something to help him but the Giantess was staying too close. Her husband did not cower in fear, though. His voice did not waver as he retorted, "Then take your quarrel to the Ettins and leave Narnia be. Know, Lady, if your people continue to attack mine, Narnia will declare war and we will teach you to fear our borders."

The Giantess laughed. "Little King has spirit. Harfang needs spirit." She laughed again and then reached out to touch his head. "Your brother prince has even more spirit and he is smarter. And he is dark. Your hair is strange, light like the sun. I do not want children with hair like the sun. I want children who are strong and smart. Children who will rule Harfang and grow our kingdom further than even Morrigan has taken it."

Children? Thalia stared at the Giantess then her gaze fell on Peter. Children. The Giants wanted children from her Peter.

"Lady Fea, I have no intention of providing children to Harfang."

The Giantess, Fea, just grinned as she poked him in the chest again. "You will give my sister-aunt Nemain children until she tires of you. Nemain will be happier with a weak husband like you. I need a strong man. The dark prince is the stronger one of you. He will give me stronger, smarter children."

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Peter stared at Fea, stomach roiling as he imagined the fate this Giantess wanted for him and for Edmund. Thalia's face appeared in his mind's eye and he shifted on his feet, meeting the Giantess' gaze. Ice colored his voice when he finally found the words, "Your desire for children is of no matter to me. I have a wife and I do not give my word lightly. I will not break my marriage vows to her, not for anyone in the worlds, and certainly not for you. I am a man of my word and I swear by the Great Lion Himself that I will die before I allow myself or my brother to be so abused. Look elsewhere for your salvation, Lady, look elsewhere or you will not live to regret your choices this day."

The Giantess smirked then she let loose an ugly laugh. "My sister-aunt is of the royal line. We take who we want, what we want, and you are what we need. Nemain will not care about a woman you leave in Narnia so long as you give Nemain children." She scratched at her stomach and then added tauntingly, "If you please Nemain, maybe she will let you go visit this woman who was your wife."

There was the scrapping of stone against stone and Peter risked a glance over his shoulder. A small rock crashed to the ground. It must have been loose. He turned back to Fea and willed himself not to show his horror at the idea. If the Giants won and he was forced to give Nemain children . . . how could he ever face Thalia again? How could he ever face himself?

He should force her to kill him. Peter shifted his stance, wondering if he could startle or enrage her enough to make her kill him. If Edmund escaped . . .

"Fea! Fea!" One of the Harfangers jogged into the canyon, his craggy face splitting with a foolish grin. "Morfran catched the dark one!"

Fea's large head grinned. "Prize!"

But her smaller head looked concerned before she turned to face the larger Harfanger. "Where?"

He pointed back the way he'd come. "That way."

"Good. I will take the dark prince from my brother-uncle. Take this one to Nemain. She will want her prize back."

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The Giants were going to force Peter to give them children. Thalia recalled her corporeal form as she neared the camp and stumbled then sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands. She had thrown a rock into the canyon but the Giantess' focus never swayed from Peter. Oh Peter! She shuddered with silent sobs as she recalled again how strong he had stood when he defied the Giantess, how he had sworn to be ever faithful to their vows as if anyone could doubt him! But that horrible Giantess had only laughed. She had laughed and promised horror for Peter's future. How could her strong oak survive such a storm?

She had not thought that she could feel worse but now it was as if her Tree's roots had been entirely encased in ice while wild winds tore at her branches, stripping them of leaf, bud, and bark. Thalia wiped the tears from her cheeks and then rose. She had to wake the others if they were not already. She had to bring them to that ravine. They had to get there. They had to get to him. Peter and Edmund needed them now more than ever.

Looking up, she caught her breath when she spied the Princess Royal. The older Nymph crossed through a patch of sunlight and Thalia could see just a hint of anguish in her expression before it disappeared again. The General must have passed on to Aslan's Country. She could think of no other reason for the Princess Royal to leave camp.

Thalia wiped a few stray tears away and then took a fortifying breath. She should comfort the Princess Royal as best she could. Alambiel was her friend. Following on silent feet, she did not call out to the older Nymph not wanting to make her feel that she could not grieve at least a little before she needed to resume her responsibilities. The Princess Royal stopped abruptly and Thalia started to close the gap but then her attention was drawn to one of the side canyons. Muffled steps carried to her and she watched in silent astonishment as the General emerged from the shadows.

The Centaur stopped just shy of his wife but then the Princess Royal walked directly to him and threw her arms around him. Thalia blushed a little, feeling like an intruder, as the couple embraced. They did not speak a word but, even from where she stood, Thalia could see how tightly they held each other and she knew quite well how sometimes touch said everything so much more clearly than words. She wished she had not encroached on their private reunion. She took a step back then froze as a pebble slid beneath her foot, scraping across the rocky ground.

They immediately drew back, their hands reaching for weapons before they stopped when they saw her. Thalia could feel her cheeks growing warmer as Oreius and Alambiel approached her. The Princess Royal didn't give any indication that she was upset at the interruption though. Her searching gaze lingered on the tearstains Thalia knew must still decorate her face as she quietly asked, "How did he look?"

Thalia took a little gasping breath and then whispered, "Brave. He was brave but they intend-" A sob choked her as she recalled the horror waiting her husband and brother-in-law.

Alambiel glanced from her back to the General. "I'll go get Lucy. Bring her back to camp." She squeezed Thalia's shoulder and then sprinted ahead.

The General's hand was a heavy weight on her shoulder but the pressure made her look up. His dark gaze was solemn as he said, "Forgive me for not better protecting them, Your Highness."

She sniffled then scrubbed her cheek with the back of her hand. "I tried to distract her but she never looked away from him. I did not see King Edmund but Peter . . . Oh my poor, brave Peter. What they plan will destroy them both. I know it will."

The Centaur nodded. "That is why we will rescue them before anything worse can occur."

"Don't invite Murphy to come back, Kentauri. We've had enough of his help if you please." Alambiel raised an eyebrow as they looked at her. "And you were supposed to actually come back to camp, you know. Lucky for you, Lucy isn't much better at listening to instructions regarding where she's supposed to stay. And since we are all here, why don't you tell us what exactly the Giants plan to do with Peter and Edmund?"

Thalia looked around, meeting the searching gazes of her sister-in-law, the Big Cats, and the Wolves, before she nodded. It seemed to take hours to tell them everything she had seen and heard during Peter's conversation with the Giantess. The only comfort she drew from the memory was how strong Peter had been, sturdy as a well-rooted oak, even when the Giantess taunted him with such a horrible fate. Still ice chipped away at her courage as an ax chipped away at the roots. She looked down at her hands and finally ended her tale, "The Harfanger dragged Peter north to a gathering of nine Giants. I heard one of them say that there were five others still hunting aside from the Giantess Fea. One of them was limping badly."

"Fifteen Giants," Alambiel repeated softly. Thalia looked up as the older woman rubbed her forehead. "Well, this is going to be complicated."

The General stamped a hoof. "We will go north, swift and silent. My Lady," he looked directly at her as he continued, "if you agree, I believe you will be of the most help following the Kings as closely as you can. Report back after the Giants stop for evening and we will assess potential plans."

Thalia nodded as Lucy leapt to her feet. "I've already packed everything so we can set out now." The Valiant Queen's eyes shone with determination as she added, "And now that we know Peter and Edmund have delayed them, we can catch up before they reach Harfang."

A small ray of hope began to melt the ice numbing Thalia's heart as she smiled at her sister-in-law. However, she did notice that the Princess Royal said nothing further and was studying the ground with the same intensity she showed during meetings right before she decided to stab the table (to the annoyance of the Gentle and Lord Peridan especially). Still, she did not object to the plan.

The ray of hope gained strength as Thalia once more banished her corporeal form. They were going to save Peter and Edmund from that terrible fate.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! So things are getting more interesting. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Murphy's Plan

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Thirteen: Murphy's Plan

"This is ridiculous. And possibly suicidal. You do at least recognize that fact, don't you?"

The Kentauri huffed in response and Alambiel pursed her lips, trying to resist the urge to smack him over the head while rant- explaining in excruciating detail (in Irish) why this was not the plan they should be following. She glared at the stony ground as she walked beside the Kentauri while leading Pepin by the reins. Ptah had read the signs clearly enough that he had taken point ahead of Bast and Babur. The Tigers had been ranging between them and where Lucy led both her horse and Thalia's horse but as the tension grew between her and her bonehead of a husband, they had both forged ahead. The Greyback brothers were happily oblivious to the tension behind them as they gladly loped around Lucy and the horses, chattering about frogs and bacon.

Alambiel shook her head as she kicked at one of the loose pebbles, sending it skittering across the ground. "Fifteen Giants, Oreius. We should send someone back to find the patrol and summon aid from the outpost."

"No."

She jerked her head up, staring at him in disbelief. Though the cordial had healed him of his physical wounds, four years of marriage and training in the healing arts let her see the strain more easily than many. Beneath the thickening beard that now covered his cheeks, the muscle in his jaw remained clenched and there were deep shadows beneath his eyes. On this second day of pushing to catch up with the Giants, his color was slightly off again. He wasn't sleeping and she could hardly coax him into eating anything. Oreius could be obsessively focused on protecting those given to him to protect but his decision was . . . out of character. "And why not?"

"They are running out of time."

"They're not the only ones." Alambiel let Pepin have a bit more lead as she moved closer to the Kentauri. "If we send Ptah or one of the Greybacks for help today, then the troops will be able to catch up with us in time to be of use and not just identifying the bodies."

"Anyone we send back will be a body we cannot afford to lose."

"Fifteen Giants, Oreius. You and I both know that just half that number would be a fatal challenge to our current number. There's only nine of us. We can't count on Peter and Edmund being able to help because we have no idea what condition they're in after trying to escape. You're probably the only one who can go one-on-one against a Giant and walk away from it but even you're not in the best shape for fighting. This is a suicide plan."

Oreius stopped short then turned to her, his most irritatingly impassive expression blocking her from guessing at his thoughts. "We do not have time for another plan."

"We should make the time." Alambiel frowned as she stopped, facing him toe to hoof. "And this feels all wrong. Why am I the voice of reason? I'm never the voice of reason. You are supposed to be the voice of reason, I'm the crazy feckless one. This is a truly horrible plan if I'm having to be the voice of reason, which I don't appreciate. So please do us both a favor and go back to being the practical one."

The hard determination in his dark gaze softened for just a moment, allowing her to see a gentle concern lurking behind his I'm-the-General façade, as he cupped her face between his hands. He looked her over slowly. "You might at times flirt with insanity for your own purposes, Alambiel, but you have never been feckless. You are well?"

"It's very reassuring to hear that you don't think I'm feckless and know that I'm only crazy when it's part of my master plan," she retorted drily. "However, it's very concerning to me that you are not participating in this conversation. Nine people cannot fight fifteen Giants and hope to walk away. This is suicidal. And if we lose three of the Four, the Calormenes and the Telmarines will not hesitate to fight together for the spoils before they get into a fight _over_ those same spoils."

"Eight." His hands slid away from her face as he sighed. "Only eight of us will fight the Giants. We shall have to pray that the colts will be able to defend themselves as well. But we cannot turn back."

Hope flared for a moment. "Then you agree to send Ptah for-"

"No. I merely said that only eight of us will join the fight."

The Kentauri started to turn away but she caught his hand and he stopped. Alambiel didn't let go as she whispered, "Why do I get the terrible feeling that you are planning to die?"

"I do not plan but I am prepared for the possibility."

"By turning the possibility into a money-back guarantee?"

Oreius looked at her, frowning. "What is a money-back guarantee?"

"It doesn't matter because it's a really bad idea and unacceptable." Alambiel dropped the reins as she crossed her arms. She scowled at him and once again reminded herself that braining him with a handy rock would not be helpful. Even if it would make her feel better. His skull was hard enough that it'd probably break the rock. "This is insane. This is an open invitation for Murphy to loose the dogs of war and his law will win and it won't be pretty either."

"I do not believe the Giants have any war dogs."

"Oreius!" She closed her mouth with a snap but still stamped her foot in irritation as she glared at him. Maybe one whack to the head would knock some caution back into his brain. Obviously, it was the fall that had knocked everything out in the first place.

He sighed then took her hand between his two and squeezed once. "I do not plan to die, Wife."

"I don't think you're telling the truth. And," she yanked her hand free then smacked him in the ribs as she continued in a low hiss, "you are still avoiding the important part where we come up with a plan that isn't going to get us all killed. We need to send someone for help. There is no possible way for the current plan to work. Why aren't you concerned?"

"This is the only way."

"Stop saying that. You're wrong."

"Alambiel." Oreius reached out and hooked a finger beneath her chin, gently pushing until she was looking up at him again. The impassive mask was in place once more but there was a hint of compassion lurking in his eyes. "Tell me why you have set yourself so firmly against this plan. I do not think I am mistaken in believing you would have sliced through this plan with one of your knives if it had been presented to you in a report."

A faint laugh escaped her. "If you were yourself, you would have let me." Her amusement faded as she searched his eyes. "But, Oreius, there are at least fifteen Giants, maybe more will join them, and this plan is impossible. The numbers alone give them a terribly high chance of winning."

"Numbers do not win a battle."

"I hate that saying. I really do."

The corner of his mouth twitched and she knew he was trying not to smile. For once, she wasn't happy to have amused him. Alambiel grit her teeth, not caring if he felt the tension in her jaw. "I almost lost you. These Giants almost succeeded in killing you and what if we can't reach you in time? I have lost everyone I love in my life, Oreius, everyone except for you. I do not want to lose you too. And I don't even know what you're thinking right now. You have fixated on this suicidal plan that isn't going to work and are refusing to send for aid. You're the General. You do remember that you like the rulebook, right? Tossing the rules and ignoring regulations is my thing, not yours, and I don't want to share. By the way, if I think ignoring regulations is a bad idea, don't you agree that you should listen to me?"

"We have no choice."

"We had a choice. You took it away."

"Alambiel . . ." He trailed off and then shook his head. "We need to continue on. We have far to go before we stop for a brief rest."

She watched him move off then groaned as she turned back to Pepin, gathering the reins in one hand and then scratching his neck with the other. The gelding nickered and butted his head against her middle. Alambiel bowed her head for a moment, unmoving save for her fingers' slight strokes through his hair. "Consider yourself lucky, Pepin, you only have to wait for Oreius to give you an apple. I have to figure out a way to beat Murphy at his game, keep everyone I like alive, and avoid being squished. This is going to be so easy."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! More of the boys and their Giant loves next chapter. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Finding Weakness

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fourteen: Finding Weakness

The stench of unwashed Giants wafted over Edmund with every breath. Peter was getting pretty ripe too and probably he was too considering personal hygiene was a concept beyond the Ettins and Harfangers, based on this lot at least. They had stopped early today as Morfran bellowed and got into a shoving match with Culhwch. The two Giants' hatred for each other seemed the only distraction from the fate planned for him and his brother. But even their grudge against each other did not last long, thanks to Fea.

A dark scowl crossed Edmund's pale face as he glared at where the Giantess now reclined only feet away with one hand coiling the ribbon she had tied around his neck as she shoved chunks of unappealing dried meat into her mouths. The smaller head noticed his glare and smirked. Allowing her larger head to continue to gorge on the meat, she raised her hand and yanked on the ribbon. The ribbon tightened to the point he gagged and almost flailed for breath but his own stubborn refusal to give her the pleasure of seeing such distress made him cling to his dignity as much as he was still able even if he was forced to get up and approach the foul Giantess. He stopped as soon as the ribbon's strangling hold slackened. Fea smirked and he crossed his eyes at her.

She only laughed. "Such a clever prize. You will give us the smartest of all children born to the Giants in an age."

Her larger head let out a stupid giggle and spoke around the half-masticated meat clinging to her crooked teeth, "Smart prize."

Edmund's scowl darkened and his hand went to his hip, searching for Shafhelm. He muttered a curse that would have drawn Susan's particular ire. Gathering himself, he turned his attention back to the Giantess. "As clever as I am, I will find a way to not marry you. I don't care to get married to any girl, be she comely or homely, at this particular time in my life. Allowing my brother to be married for the last five years has of course caused difficulties in maintain my status as a bachelor king because if one king is taken, the other will do too. Then there's the problem of those girls who actually thought Peter would give them even a thimbleful of his love as though the epitome of honor and chivalry would so much as consider taking even a thimbleful of love away from his wife. Then the envious eyes turn to me." He crossed his arms and jutted his chin out as he continued darkly, "Those envious eyes have yet to succeed. The latest pairs won't either."

Fea tugged on the ribbon, forcing him closer, and then she leaned toward him, her fetid breath making him choke even more than the ribbon around his neck. "No, pet, you will give me strong, smart children. I will be queen after Morrigan and I make you mine."

The queen-in-waiting for the Harfangers? This was actually going to get worse. Edmund pressed his lips together in a thin line, resisting the impulse to hurl curses at the evil before him. "So you will give the Giants a human king?"

Her lip curled into a sneer. "No Giant of strength will follow a human king but they will follow a Queen who brings new life to the royal blood. Morrigan has seen this is the way and I will bring it. Through you."

"Prize," her larger head laughed as she dropped the remaining chunks of meat and wrapped her grimy hand around the back of Edmund's head and neck. She tugged him closer. "Prize."

Bile surged in his throat and he fought the frantic impulse to wrench free. Thirteen years of training forced him to be calm. If he attempted to wrench away now, Fea would likely snap his neck by accident and then Peter would be left alone to these foul, wretched creatures. Fea leaned closer, her smaller head puckering its lips.

"Eh! Wuld ya look? She likes 'em small!" A shadow fell across them as one of the larger Ettins stumbled closer, a look of idiotic glee fixed firmly in place as he took a swig out of his wineskin. He let out a guffaw and then stumbled even closer. "Fea, purty Fea." He grinned then uttered a crass invitation to the Giantess that would have gotten him skewered had he dared speak in such a manner to Edmund's sisters.

Fea tilted both heads back and laughed as though hearing the cleverest joke in all the worlds. Edmund could only shake his head. Was this what the Northern Giants truly thought of each other? They were no more than playthings and possessions to each other. Fea was clever, it was true, and she would make a formidable and concerning opponent should she gain the throne with a puppet husband (not him if it pleased the Lion!) but she had no true value in her own eyes. How could she? How could any of the Giants when they lived in ignorance and fear of Aslan?

The meditative turn of his thoughts were quickly silenced, however, as the Ettin suddenly dropped his wineskin and then yanked his grimy tunic off, exposing his hairy torso. His gut bulged out and nothing about him even hinted at a life aimed at battle. Edmund stared at him with a critical eye, cutting past his initial unappealing appearance to assess his stance. Even teetering from the hearty amounts of liquor he had been indulging in since they had stopped, the Ettin was weak. He faltered when he should compensate and his body had never had true muscle. This was not the body of a warrior now living in comfort where muscle was sheathed in fat as with King Lune nor could it be said to have gone fully to seed for the weakness in his stance, his faltering, fumbling attempts to impress Fea simply by holding his arms above his head and his beery guffaws, betrayed that this one had never trained at being a warrior. At best he was a hanger-on, a leech who thought so much of himself that it made up for others' low opinions. It would not take much to cause him to give in to either fear or fatal foolishness.

Edmund felt the ribbon go completely slack and he looked around to see Fea's attention was firmly held by the Ettin before her. Her larger head, in particular, was under the Ettin's spell if one could call it that as she licked her lips and sniggered. She raised one hand as though to beckon the Ettin closer. If she did, Edmund planned to run. He had no intention of staying in the vicinity if this encounter went the way it was beginning to look.

The Ettin's wide face split into an ugly grin and he called another crass suggestion to the Giantess, making her laugh. But, as he came closer, another rose behind him. The Ettin screeched and his massive hands went up to cradle the back of his head. He lumbered around to face his attacker and shrank back. Morfran glared at him, a club clasped in one six-fingered hand, as he growled, "Harfanger women don't lay with miserable Ettins!" His black look darkened further as he stared at Edmund then he slammed the club into the Ettin's exposed gut. The other Giant yelped and called to his fellows for aid, pleading for mercy, to no avail as the dark Harfanger continued to beat him all the while glaring at Edmund. No one, not the Harfangers and not the Ettins, moved as Morfran pummeled the Ettin who had attempted to proposition Fea. Yet, Edmund could not help admitting that it was not very likely that it was the slur to his relative's honor that caused Morfran's furious attack. It was simply the idea of Harfanger mixing with Ettin. Or, he mused as Morfran gave him another poisonous glare before delivering a bone-cracking blow to the Ettin's shoulder, perhaps he was also opposed to Fea's plan to make Edmund give her children.

At last, Morfran's violent tantrum ended. The bloodied club was allowed to drop to his side as the whimpering Ettin dragged his broken body away from the Harfanger. Fea had gotten to her feet, both heads wearing a mutinous expression, as she stared at the male Harfanger. "Harfanger men lay with Ettin women. Or does Morfran forget that both he and our brother Bork keep Ettin girls to amuse them?"

Morfran ceased dragging his fingers through his beard, allowing the assorted bones tied into it to clack together. His already black expression somehow darkened further and he backhanded Fea's smaller head, driving her back a step, then he reversed his swing and backhanded her larger head, causing her to trip. Edmund remained where he was, knowing that drawing Morfran's attention now would be fatal to him and Peter both. He watched as Morfran yanked the Giantess back to her feet, taking advantage of the extra three feet he towered over her, and hissed, "Ettin girls bear no children. Morrigan ensured it. Had you not schemed with her, sister-niece, you would not have this weakling. You should have me!"

Edmund grimaced at the revelation but then set his mind to determining how to use this information to their advantage. Perhaps . . . He glanced over the camp where the Ettins now gathered around their beaten comrade then looked once more at where Morfran and Fea continued their quarrel. Perhaps there was a way to deepen the divide until it formed the chasm ripe for escape.

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The small camp was dark. No fire had been lit or even suggested after they had been greeted with the intelligence that the Giants had stopped early as a result of a quarrel. Oreius had pushed them all to continue on until finally the dumb horses had given out and Alambiel had refused to move on for risk that they push the beasts to their deaths. The same sense of helplessness flowed over him as he eyed the lathered horses and was forced to agree that they had no choice but to stop. He greatly feared they would need to bear the colts out of Ettinsmoor on litters and they would need horses to do so . . . especially if he was unable to accompany them.

"You do realize that starvation and sleep-deprivation aren't going to help give your current suicide plan better odds, don't you?"

Oreius turned away from the barren north to find Alambiel standing next to him, rations in hand. He would have refused but then he looked at her more closely. The dark shadows beneath her eyes looked as though someone had struck her when compared to her pallid complexion. There was an air of weariness about her now that he had not seen in a little over two years. His mind went back to the memory of seeing her heavy with child as she waited with him. He knew that had been a hallucination caused by his injured condition but the underlying circumstances might yet be true. Taking the rations from her, he murmured, "I do not intend to die."

Alambiel said nothing but the skepticism in her blue eyes spoke volumes. He glanced over her head to observe the camp once more. Princess Thalia and Queen Lucy had lain down, the Wolves snuggled against them, and the Tigers were keeping watch while Ptah scouted the swiftest route to where the Princess Consort had reported the Giants' latest encampment. There was yet hope that if the Giants continued quarrelling they would not make much progress and they could make up for their own delays. Oreius sighed then took his wife's hand in his and led her away from the camp.

She slipped her hand free of his light grasp as soon as they stopped in a shallow, crescent-shaped divot carved into the canyon wall. "What is it you want?"

"To talk."

"That's what we've been doing for the past day and a half."

"No, that was arguing. Now I wish to talk to you and I wish for you to listen." Oreius hesitated then carefully lowered himself to the cold stone ground, pulling Alambiel down with him. Gathering her into his arms, he held her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, feeling the softness of her hair even as strands caught in his ungroomed beard. "I love you."

"And yet you want to make me a widow."

"Listen." He waited until she had subsided then continued, "I do not tell you this enough but I do love you and I would not bring you any grief if I could prevent it. However, this time I cannot promise you that we will return to Cair Paravel together and resume our lives. I cannot promise you that I will be there for you and I am sorry for it. I am a soldier. We are both soldiers and we both swore to serve Narnia, to serve the Four, and to serve Aslan knowing that one day it might cost one or both of us our very lives. Though I still pray and hope that this is not that day, I am prepared for it. I know you do not agree with me. I know you are hurt by my decisions." She stiffened in his arms but he didn't let her go, if anything he held her more securely, reaching up with one hand to stroke her cheek. "After so many years of knowing you and four years of being your husband, I know when you are hurt, my milis cantalach. I am sorry but I cannot change my decisions. For the sake of Narnia, for the sake of the colts, my decisions must stand. If things should go ill, Alambiel-"

"What are you doing? I'm glad I found you. Did you know you wandered off?"

Oreius' eyes slid close while Alambiel remained stiff in his arms, unyielding, and having Remus Greyback interrupt certainly did nothing to aid him in his attempt to mend matters. He opened his eyes again and turned his head to glare at the Wolf pup. "What do you here, Greyback?"

The Wolf grinned at him, tail wagging and pink tongue lolling, as he happily replied, "You said no one was to wander away. I came to find you because you and the Princess Royal wandered away." His yellow eyes widened suddenly as he asked, "Did you wander away because you're mating?"

"Remus, questions about mating, mates, and puppies are not polite and you have been warned on this a number of times," Oreius ground out.

The Wolf's eyes widened further and he ducked his head a little then wagged his tail tentatively. "I'm sorry. It was on accident. The Princess Royal looks like she wants to bite you, General. Are you going to bite the General, Princess Alambiel?"

Alambiel stiffened even further and muttered under her breath, "I just might."

"Oh." Remus ducked his head again at the glare Oreius gave him then he brightened. "Are you going to have puppies now? Females always bite more when they're getting ready to have puppies and they bite their mates the most because they get very grumpy."

"Perhaps. Now, I thank you for your diligence, Greyback, but you should return to camp. You must ensure that the Princess Consort and Valiant Queen are well-protected and do not wander off."

The Wolf yipped in excitement and then raced off. Oreius could only hope that the foolish pup would not wake the entire camp now. He looked down to find Alambiel glaring at him. She pushed at his chest, attempting to free herself but he did not allow it. "Let me go."

"Give me a reason to do so."

"Because I'm currently furious enough that I just might bite you with a knife."

"Why?"

Alambiel glared more and smacked him on the chest. "You told Remus 'perhaps' in regards to puppies. Remus does not understand 'perhaps.' He thinks that 'perhaps' is the same as 'yes' and that means that I will be dealing with Lucy and Thalia thinking that we know that I am with child. Much as I would like to distract them from morbid and despairing thoughts, talking about babies is not how I want to handle it."

"I will deal with it. Unless, you can tell me that I should have said 'no.'" He watched her anger wilt and then she pressed close to him. He felt the drops of moisture wetting his chest and he wrapped his arms more securely around her as he rocked her. He wanted to press her for an answer, for the comfort that the knowledge his wife was with child would bring him in the coming battle (for there would be a battle), but foals had been a delicate topic since they had lost their first. Indeed, it had been left unspoken since that terrible time and he would not hurt her further by asking for news she might not be able to give. That was the promise he had made himself and he would not break it. He also was not certain that her sudden tears were not caused by the strain of these last days had placed upon her.

The moon's faint light had emerged from behind the clouds and washed over them by the time Alambiel's tears eased. She didn't say a word as Oreius shifted so they were both lying down, although he still held her close. He brushed gold and white tendrils back from her face and then allowed himself to trace his fingers over her features, her brows, her nose, her lips, reminding himself of how it felt to touch her face. The memory would be one he clung to in the coming days.

She caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. "Don't think I haven't figured it out, Kentauri."

He said nothing and she eased up on her elbow so they now faced one another. Then she leaned in close, her heart in her eyes and her breath tickling his mouth, as she whispered, "I know you are planning to use yourself as a distraction and force the Giants to focus on you instead of the rest of us. And even though you keep telling me that you don't plan to die, I know how that strategy usually works and why you don't usually allow it to be even suggested, much less used."

Oreius still said nothing. Instead, he cupped Alambiel's cheek then slid his fingers back to bury them in her hair. "Then you know I do it because there is no other way. I am pledged to protect the Four. The colts must be saved and, as you have said, losing three of the Four would devastate Narnia. When we catch up with the Giants, you must focus on your task of keeping the Valiant safe. When the way has been made, take the colts and the fillies south. Do not stop for me. Do not wait for me. There is a chance that we will all escape. It is very slim but it has not been severed yet and if we do, I will make my way separately from you. You must not lose focus on the most important task. You must bring our sovereigns back to Narnia. Promise me you will do this."

She shook her head slightly. "Don't ask this of me, Oreius. It's bad enough when you steal my nonsense plans from me but don't ask me to be detached. Not to that extent. I can't."

He did not ask again. Instead, he closed the scant distance between them and captured her mouth in a kiss he hoped she would remember and cherish. Her taste was familiar and sweet. Lion willing, he would not leave her long. But if he did, he would find a way to protect her and the foal.

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Remus' wriggling woke her. She looked at the Wolf quizzically and he grinned then licked her chin. "Princess Thalia, did you know Princess Alambiel and the General are going to have a puppy? The General said so."

She reached out to touch his muzzle and whispered, "Shh, go to sleep, Remus. I think Queen Lucy is cold."

The Wolf let out a muffled yip of alarm and turned away to hop over his brother and Lucy then snuggled close to the Valiant's side. She did not have to wait long before the Wolf's snores filled the air along with his brother's. Stealing away from the clutch of bodies, Thalia debated going to the General and the Princess Royal. But, if the General had indeed informed Remus of an impending seedling, then he had no doubt only been recently told himself. And Thalia had no desire to intrude on the couple, not when they had already experienced such trials regarding their hope for seedlings.

Thalia stared up at the moon and then closed her eyes. Releasing her corporeal form, she once more rose into the cold winds' embrace and rode them north, to Peter, to her poor strong oak. How much longer could he weather this storm with it tearing apart his branches?

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Well, that took unexpected turns. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Widening the Divide

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fifteen: Widening the Divide

Sleep was a comfort not given him this night. Peter stared at the ground as he sat with his arms around his knees. Most of the Giants were muttering in their own little knots, Morfran having dragged Fea away from the group's line of sight although they could hear her shrieks of rage in the distance, but now they had turned their pitiful attention back to food. It seemed that was never far from their minds and was the least vile of all their vices.

He ran a hand over his face, wishing he could close his eyes and open them to find this was all some sort of terrible nightmare and that he was safe in bed at Cair Paravel with his Flower's soft warmth pressed against his back as she whispered words of loving comfort to him. Oh Thalia! He had no doubt that by now a patrol had found the site of the ambush, of the massacre, and word would have been sent at once to Cair Paravel. There was little hope though that they would find their trail, although perhaps they found Oreius. He had probably died, though. Peter shuddered at the reminder of his failure to bring back help for the Centaur. He ran his hand over his face again, blinking back burning tears as he thought of Kat and how she would have to raise her baby alone because of his failings and Thalia . . . His poor Flower. Even if they found a way to escape . . . would she even want him still?

Peter closed his eyes then tilted his head back, uncaring as the stray tear escaped to roll down his grimy cheek and then disappear into his beard. "Thalia, forgive me. I'm trying to make it back but you won't even want to look at me when you hear what's happened. I led them to their deaths. I did. I failed them, I've failed you, and I have failed Aslan's charge to me. I won't let them touch me, though. I won't let them pollute what we have together. I'll put cold steel in my own breast before I'll permit that. I pray you'll forgive me for being so weak. Forgive me, Thalia, for failing as a husband, as a king, and as a brother. Forgive me, Flower."

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Tears flowed down her cheeks in a silent torrent as though her Tree was drenched in the fiercest of storms. She wished she might call down to Peter or, even better, go down to him if only to brush a single leaf against his cheek. Anything she could have done to alert him to her presence, though, would have also alerted the Giants. As it was, her distress was so great that she could not even hold her incorporeal form and now crouched on a shadowed ledge overlooking her poor, battered oak. How much pain must have cut into his trunk and roots for him to even contemplate turning an axe upon himself in the name of maintaining their pure marriage?

 _Oh Aslan, give him strength. Shore up his branches and nourish his roots. Let him not fall to the axe of despair! Let him continue in You, strong and confident in Your mercy. We are so close now. Let him not give up when we are so close to him._

Her fervent prayer was met by silence but Thalia did not despair. She would not despair. Where there was life, there was hope and the Great Lion was still at work. That was what her mother had taught her during the years of Winter. It was still true.

A harsh shout filled the air and Thalia pressed back into the shadows as her attention was torn away from Peter to where two Giants now stood beside the fire. One was carrying a spit and the other held the limp body of a horse. Their shouts carried easily as they became more involved in their argument. The one holding the horse shoved his fellow Giant. "An' I tol' you a 'orse needs fine filleting ta get the most outta it. A stew."

"You don't know nothin'! 'Orse needs ta be turned on a spit. It gets all nice and crunchy."

"You eatin' slop? Who wants crunchy 'orse? Put it in a stew, I says, an' I'se cooking not you, filthy Ettin." He shoved the Ettin hard and laughed as the other Giant stumbled too close to the fire and singed the hem of his leggings.

Thalia dared a peek down at where Peter was sitting. He had risen slowly to his feet. A ribbon looped around his neck dangled to the ground. A burst of fury like the lightning that scorched unsuspecting trees filled her at the sight and she wanted nothing more than to go down and tear it off her husband and then burn it. Her attention was recalled to the Giants as a familiar voice suddenly rang out, "Actually neither a stew nor simply turning it on a spit will get you the best tasting horsemeat."

By the Lion, what was he doing?

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"Edmund, no!"

"My Queen?"

Susan stared wildly around the room before her gaze settled on Caia. The Centauress was watching her with concern. "Are you well, My Queen? We heard you cry out."

She nodded, too afraid of what she might say if she attempted to speak. When the Centauress did not retreat immediately, she managed to get a few words past her parched mouth, "Just a dream."

"Aslan guard your dreams, Your Majesty." The Centauress closed the door, shutting her in with only her thoughts for company.

Susan dropped her head into her hands and shuddered as she recalled the dream. Edmund had been standing before three Giants with murder in their eyes as they listened to him speak. She knew how deeply her brother's words could cut when he set his mind to it. She had not been able to hear the words he spoke but the terrible dread had come over her that he was about to be killed. Tears threatened but she blinked them back. She was of no help to them crying here in Cair Paravel over a dream.

She swallowed hard and then left the empty comfort of her bed. She picked up her robe and then allowed it to fall back across the foot of the bed. She would need something warmer. Moving on silent feet, she opened her wardrobe but her searching fingers did not go to her delicately embroidered slippers nor her fine gowns in delicate silk or sumptuous velvet. Instead, she pulled out some serviceable if still finely tooled leather boots. She slipped her feet into them and then pulled out her warmest cloak, the one with a deep hood. Fastening it in place, she drew the hood up and then stole into her sitting room. The fire had been allowed to die even though the one in her bedchamber still burned. Gathering her cloak and nightgown up, Susan ducked into the fireplace and pressed the small lever tucked in the corner. A section of marble slide open to reveal one of the secret tunnels. She did not much care to use it, not delighting in the secret passages like her brothers and sister, since it caused their guards undue worry whenever they disappeared from their quarters. But this time there was no other way.

Stepping back out, she picked up a candle and lit it before she ventured into the tunnel, the door sliding back into place with soundless ease. The sputtering flame seemed to match her own failing courage. Susan swallowed again, reminding herself that there was no other way and that she needed more than anything to be the strong Queen her people and her family needed and that meant she would have to take this step. Word had come from the Mermaids that the Calormenes woud at last set sail the following morn, having delayed their journey after Blodeuwedd's departure to thoroughly cleanse the ship of any lingering malevolence. Time was of the essence.

At least she emerged from the tunnel out into the southern gardens. The wind was bitterly cold and bit through her cloak with alarming ease. It snuffed out her candle, plunging her into darkness until her eyes adjusted to the faint starlight. There were torches and lanterns in the distance, marking the walls and where her people gathered to share tales and food. Many of the houses near the southern gardens were dark, though, as Susan approached them. Walking swiftly, she found the house she sought and scratched at the door.

The answering silence stretched to the point she thought she might have to look outside Cair Paravel's gates for the one she sought and then she heard the muffled footsteps approaching the door. It swung open to reveal a large Centaur stallion. Captain Ardon blinked at her then he bowed and stepped back to allow her entry. "Your Majesty," he rumbled, "what has happened?"

"It is what I fear will happen that brings me here this night, Captain." Susan gave him an apologetic smile. "Forgive me for waking you but I feel this cannot wait for daylight hours."

The Centaur gave a curt nod and then went to the fireplace. As he stirred the banked fire back to life, he asked softly, "Does this concern the Northern dilemma or the Southern frustration?"

A faint smile curled her pink lips before she sighed. "The Northern dilemma. We must send aid now. The patrol still awaits your order, does it not?"

"It does." The Centaur looked at her as he straightened. "However, there is no way to know if they will find them or be in time if they do."

"We must find them and we must bring them home." Susan took a deep breath then raised her chin. "Send the order, Captain Ardon. The patrol must bring them home within the sennight. We can wait no longer."

At first, she thought he might argue. But if the Centaur thought she was making a foolish choice or risking exposure of the problem to Narnia's enemies, he gave no indication. Instead, he bowed gravely. "At once, My Queen. Shall I bring my report to the war room?"

"Yes, Captain, and thank you."

"Aslan is yet with them, My Queen. Wherever they all are, they are held between His paws."

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"What'd 'e say?"

Edmund rocked back on his heels as he raised his voice, "I said you're not cooking the horsemeat correctly unless you want it to taste like dirt and oil."

The Ettin lowered the spit toward him. "That's why you don't put et in any ol' stinkin' stew."

Edmund glanced at the Harfanger who was still staring at him dumbfounded then nodded to the Ettin, stepping closer to him and stopping just shy of the spit's sharp point. "Exactly, my good fellow. Now a proper meal would consist of broiled horsemeat."

"Eh? What's that? Broiled?"

"Precisely." He hoped Philip never caught wind of this conversation. The Horse would buck him off into the first stream and then make him walk everywhere (for Philip would take steps to keep him from riding any horse) until Edmund demonstrated he was sufficiently sorry.

"What are you whisperin'?" The Harfanger finally glared at him. "What'd you tell 'im?" He took a menacing step forward. "You tell Grawk now."

Edmund scurried over to him. He had no idea when Morfran and Fea would return or when the others would notice that Nemain had decided to chase some poor terrified bird into the canyons. He had to work fast if this was going to work. "I told him the truth. You can't roast a horse or put it in a stew by itself. You need to serve it baked in a fresh pepper and tomato sauce."

"Ain't never had 'orse that way afore." Grawk crouched down so they were eye to eye. "What else do ya have ta do?"

Before he could answer, Edmund's ribbon was jerked tight and he stumbled backwards in a shuffling run to keep from choking or breaking his neck. He spun about to see the Ettin chef was holding the end of the ribbon. "You tell Mork what's you said or Mork eats you."

Edmund raised his hands placatingly. "I only reassured him that you were right about horse being best when broiled."

"I was?" The Ettin squinted at him and then he grinned and tugged him closer. "An' iffen I broil it. What else?"

"Why you would of course broil it with the finest taters around. You know the good ones, large and golden."

Mork laughed then dropped the ribbon as he stomped toward Grawk. "Gimme thet 'orse! We broil it."

Grawk sneered. "No, I'se gonna bake it in a sauce."

"What sauce?"

"Pepper an' tomato sauce. Be a delight ta ya gullet."

"No!" Mork shoved Grawk in the shoulder. "The 'orse is broiled wi' taters!"

"Don't want no stinkin' taters. Baked in a pepper an' tomato sauce is what it's gonna be."

Edmund began to slowly back away as Grawk shoved Mork. The Giants continued bellowing the different methods and ingredients as their shoves became harder, sending each one stumbling multiple steps. Their companions began to gather around, egging on the fight in the absence of Morfran, Fea, and Culhwch. Edmund finally gained Peter's side just as Mork punched Grawk, knocking him flat. His brother shook his head. "What is this supposed to accomplish?"

"You'll see. I have it under control."

No sooner had the words left his lips than Grawk wrenched the spit from Mork's hand. Edmund gagged as the Harfanger drove the spit into the Ettin's left eye, killing him instantly. Two more of the Ettins bellow and then charged Grawk. The force of the three Giants tumbling to the ground caused a slight quake. Edmund grabbed Peter by the arm and hauled him back as the Giants rolled dangerously close, their legs and fists flying. One wrong swat and his plan wouldn't matter in the least.

A roared curse shattered the air and then Culhwch and Morfran both waded into the fray. To Edmund's disappointment, neither Grawk nor his new opponents suffered any fatal hurt before the brawl was broken apart by the two leaders beating them until they ceased.

Morfran yanked Grawk up and demanded, "Why did you fight? I told you not to fight the Ettins. Who told you to fight?"

Fortunately, Grawk's face was so swollen that he could not answer Morfran's questions but the lack of answers did not seem to influence his hateful suspicion as he turned his head to stare at where Edmund now sat with an expression of utter innocence. But the dark Harfanger did not come over to him as Fea finally appeared, looking even messier and more unkempt than usual. She surveyed the destruction and then clapped her hands. "You reveal our weaknesses, Grawk, and show Morfran I am right!"

Her larger head looked around more and then frowned. "Nemain."

Her smaller head frowned. "What?" Then she surveyed the camp and bellowed, "Where is Nemain? Where is my sister-aunt?"

The Giants all looked around dumbfounded. Then the Ettins shrugged and dragged their dead comrade away. The Harfangers took seats near the fire with Morfran in the center once more. At Fea's repeated question, Morfran sneered. "If you had not tested me, you would know. My sister is an imbecile who wanders and Morrigan charged you with keeping her safe. Now I have taught you your lesson. Go find Nemain and avoid Morrigan's punishment."

As Fea stomped off into the darkness, Edmund found himself once more confronted by Morfran's hateful stare. He raised his chin in silent defiance. Peter nudged him with his elbow. "Choose your fights wisely, brother mine. Don't be so clever it dooms you."

"I have a plan," he muttered in reply, still not looking away from the Harfanger. "I just might have to adapt it a few times."

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Finally assured that her husband and brother-in-law were yet safe, Thalia banished her corporeal form. But she did not return immediately to the camp. Instead, she sped through the canyons looking for the foul Giantess who had dared to lay claim to her husband. She found her chipping away at a small hole in the canyon wall as a bird scolded and dived, plucking at her stringy hair to no avail.

Nemain laughed to herself. "Birdy eggs nice. Birdy eggs so nice. Nemain get birdy eggs."

Thalia swooped down, brushing her leaves across the Giantess' face. She felt ill as she did so, as if a sludge had been tossed on her Tree's roots, threatening to dry up the nourishment to be found in the soil. It was not an experience she wished to repeat and, thank the Lion, one pass was all that was needed to distract the Giantess. "Purty."

She laughed, reveling in her own ignorance, and clapped her hands together before she reached out to catch Thalia again. Her fingers passed harmlessly through her leaves, catching naught but air, and she stared in dumfounded silence before she tried again. The more she failed, the more fascinated she became in attempting to catch the swirling leaves. Thalia led Nemain further east. She had seen Fea's concern. If Nemain was lost, she would not permit the Giants to move on until she was found. Thalia just needed to ensure Nemain herself was lost and too far away to simply wander back on her own.

The Giantess continued to pursue her, not resting or growing distracted until well past sunup. Only then did she at least sit down. Nemain blinked slowly and then her head drooped. In a matter of moments, she slumped to the side and began snoring. Thalia regained her corporeal form as she observed the sleeping Giantess. Aslan willing, they had covered enough ground that the other Giants would not find her soon.

Banishing her corporeal form, Thalia rose once more on the winds and allowed them to carry her away.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Hmm, tread very carefully, Edmund. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Deal with the Devil

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Sixteen: Deal with the Devil

It was not until dawn had come and gone that Fea returned to the Giant encampment. Peter watched through barely open eyes as Morfran listened to the Giantess' argument. Finally, he offered a surly nod and wandered around the camp, kicking his comrades awake. At their grumbling, he swore and threatened until they at least moved for fear he would do to them what he had done to Grawk the night before. Fea did not stop to visit Edmund. Instead, she joined Morfran in threatening the Ettins into helping them search for Nemain.

As the Giants stomped off in different directions, Peter watched in despair as two of the more intelligent Harfangers planted themselves, spears in hand, in front of where he and Edmund were resting. The distraction of Nemain's disappearance would not prove fruitful in regards to serving up another opportunity for escape. Indeed, he feared that they had used all of their previous chances, if one could count Fea's so-called test as a true chance for escape.

The lack of snoring from where Edmund was curled on his side proved his little brother was also awake. A weary sigh escaped Peter as he sat up and then rested his arms on his knees and hung his head. _Aslan, I do not wish to be here. I do not wish to go through this any longer. What do I do? Should I sacrifice myself to win a chance for freedom for Ed? You know we can neither of us withstand the cruel attentions of the Harfangers for long should they win their schemes._

Muttering rose among the remaining Ettins and Peter raised his head to see the two of them standing with their heads together as they muttered and gestured toward his and Edmund's guards. Not counting Grawk, whose beating had rendered him essentially useless, only four Giants remained in the camp. If they got into a fight . . . They would probably kill them by accident in the midst of their quarrel.

Peter nudged Edmund with his foot as one of the Ettins lumbered over. "Give us meat!"

His brother sat up with a dark scowl on his face and his hair sticking up in odd clumps. As soon as Edmund's eyes narrowed further, Peter clapped a hand on his brother's arm but it was too late as Edmund called, "Who are you calling 'meat?'"

The Ettin let out a bellow. "You!" He charged only to be hit in the ribs with the butt of one of the Harfangers' spears. His beady eyes narrowed with hate. "You canna stop us." He yanked a spiked cudgel free and slammed it into the Harfanger's upraised arm.

The Harfanger howled as the spikes tore through tunic and flesh, sending large drops of blood splashing down to stain the barren ground. Then he beat the Ettin again with his spear haft. The other Harfanger also leapt into the fray but his aim was spoiled as the other Ettin beat the spear aside with his own club.

Peter looked at Edmund. They nodded then surged to their feet. It was the only chance. Peter knew it. He could feel it in his bones. Together they raced past the brawling Giants, past the blood, old and new, that was shed, to their last hope of freedom. The Giants never broke off fighting.

Then Grawk's slurred voice called, "They'se runnin'!"

The brothers exchanged looks and ran faster. But Peter could feel the effects of little food and even less rest as his body ached and his muscles screamed in agony far too soon. He could not stop, though. He dared not stop. But the ground shook beneath his feet as he ran, bearing the tale that the Giants had heard their companion's warning. No, by Aslan, he would not be taken. He would force them to kill him before he would let himself be taken again.

A heavy blow caught him in the side, knocking him into the canyon wall before he fell in a heap to the ground. Peter's ears were ringing, he could taste blood, but he still managed to gather his wits enough to force himself up on his hands and knees.

"Peter! Peter! Get up, you halfwit! Run!"

Edmund's voice came as though from some place far away and on the other end of a long tunnel. Peter opened his eyes and the ground swam. But still he forced himself up. He staggered to his feet and stumbled away from the Giant as he let loose a hideous laugh. Then another blow came. Peter struck the ground again, groaning in pain as the shock reverberated through his body. Another odious laugh rent through the ringing in his ears as a meaty hand grasped his legs and flopped him over as though he were a fish. Peter stared into the cruel eyes of one of the Ettins. "You can't win."

The Ettin chortled, his breath wafting over him, and then he propped Peter up. He called over his shoulder, "Bring the other one! Make 'im watch!"

Before Peter could react, the Ettin's attention was on him once more and he wrapped one hand around his arm and then he pulled. Peter gasped as the first shots of pain sped up his arm to his shoulder joint. The Ettin's cruel grin swam before him as the pressure slowly increased and he continue to pull his arm in a deliberate, cruel fashion of slow dislocation. Peter heard a snap and felt hot pain radiating from his upper arm and a scream of pain ripped free despite his determination to resist such weakness. The Ettin laughed. Oh how he laughed, horrid and gruesome as he took sickening pleasure in his slow torture. Peter screamed as he felt ligaments tearing and bones grinding together. The Ettin laughed.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear Edmund blistering the Giants' ears with imaginative curses. But now black edged his vision, slowly blotting the ugly sight of the Ettin's cruel leer. Then a pain that rivaled almost all he had known ripped through him and he screamed once more. Then it all went black.

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Thalia clapped both hands over her mouth to keep from screaming as the Ettin released Peter's arm. It hung unnaturally at his side, even beneath his tunic she could see the way a gap now appeared between his shoulder and his arm. Horror slowly gave way to fury as she watched Edmund sprint to her husband. The General had instructed her that she must not interfere yet when she was leading him to the nearest Ettin but even he could not have foreseen this happening. The Giants would kill Peter and Edmund if something was not done!

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"Peter!"

His brother didn't move. His face was pale beneath the dirt and beard. The only sign of life was his rapid breathing. Edmund fell to his knees beside him but dared not touch his arm. His eyes lit on the Ettins who were laughing stupidly and narrowed to mere slits. "Do you think this is funny? What will Fea do to you when she finds him like this?"

The Ettin who had dared to harm his brother laughed but his laughter was cut short as he abruptly slapped at the back of his neck. Then his comrade laughed. "Bugs got ya!"

Edmund shook his head and turned back to his unconscious brother. How was he going to move him? He would have to wake him up to the pain that unconsciousness had provide a temporary escape from, there was no other way. The Ettins were too busy shoving at each other as one rejoiced at the other's misfortune to care as Edmund laid a hand on his brother's good shoulder and shook him. "Peter, wake up."

A low cry burst from Peter's lips but he did not open his eyes as he curled inward, seeming not to realize that the movement would only increase the pain. Edmund grit his teeth as he shook his shoulder again. "I'm sorry, Pete, but you have to wake up. We have to move."

Peter opened his eyes slightly and a faint whisper escaped, "Home?"

He bit his lip as he shook his head. "Not yet. But we're going to make it. Now, you great lummox, wake up. I can't lug your entire weight through these canyons. Thalia and Susan said I couldn't dent your skull anymore, even if it is hard as a rock."

His mouth twitched into the tiniest of smiles before he struggled to sit straight and pain washed all vestiges of humor away as he gasped. He bit his bottom lip so hard that he drew blood. Wishing he could do otherwise, Edmund had no choice but to continue prodding. He carefully slid a hand under his brother's arm and tugged him to his feet. Peter moaned and his head lolled alarmingly in response as he sagged against Edmund. There was no longer a great difference in their heights but Edmund felt ever inch he was missing as he struggled to keep the great lummox from falling over. "Get up, Peter. This is not time to imitate a sack of flour, Pevensie. Oreius will kill us if he catches you sleeping on your feet. Think of the visits to the points of the compass. Do you want to do all those?"

"Nooo, comp'. No." Peter's head finally raised a little and some of the weight shifted imperceptibly off Edmund's shoulders.

"Good! Now straighten up, we have to walk."

It figured it would take the dread disciplinary exercise (although sometimes Oreius tortured them with it just because . . . he claimed stamina but Edmund and Peter agreed it was just as likely a manifestation of the Centaur's very odd sense of humor) to get his brother moving. The Ettin who had been bitten continued to scratch at his neck as he watched Edmund help Peter limp back toward the Giants' encampment. They had no choice but to go back with Peter hurt like he was and Edmund suspected he had a number of cracked ribs too.

As soon as Peter realized which direction they were going in, he tried to dig his heels in. "Noo. Noo. Noo."

Edmund tightened his grip on his brother's good arm and around his waist. "I know, Pete, shhh. It won't last long. I'm going to find a way out of here but shush now. Don't think about where we're going. Think about Thalia. Have you started planning for Christmas yet? I still say you should give her those Harpy stilts."

"Not stilts, Eddie."

He snorted. "That is what you drew."

"Not."

"Yes, it is. You're not going to give her a poem, are you?"

"My poems are good. Flower likes 'em."

"She's your wife. She has to say that." If he could keep him talking, he could keep him from giving up. He just had to keep his big brother from worrying and Thalia was always good for that. "So what will you give her?"

"Roses."

"She's a Beech Nymph."

"She likes roses." Peter grimaced and stumbled, crying out softly as Edmund overcompensated. "Maybe different flowers for my Flower?"

"Oh please tell me you don't write that sort of stuff in your poems."

"She likes my poems."

"You think she likes your cooking too."

Peter huffed then groaned but a faint smile still appeared on his pain-creased features. "My cooking's good. Thalia loves it. I'm going . . . I'm going to make breakfast and lunch and supper for her for Christmas Eve."

His sister-in-law would be too ill to attend the Christmas Day Ball if Peter did that to her. Edmund snorted. "You realize that food poisoning is not a good Christmas present."

"She loves my cooking. I cooked every day of our honeymoon."

How did Thalia survive? Edmund shook his head but the reply died half-formed on his tongue when he looked up to see Morfran and three more Giants, two Ettins and one Harfangers, waiting in the camp. Anger burned a cold path through his heart as he kept Peter going to the little alcove they had been in before and then he carefully lowered Peter to the ground. He failed to keep his damaged arm from flopping though and Peter's scream scraped across his ears before his brother went limp.

A quick check found his thready pulse. Edmund stared at his brother's motionless form. He wasn't going to survive. Not if he didn't find a way to get out of here. And now there was only one option Edmund could think of. Steeling himself, he rose to his feet and marched over to Morfran. "I wish to make a bargain."

"What can you offer?"

"My . . ." He trailed off and then clenched his fists as he forced the vile words off his tongue, "My full cooperation with plans to rebuild the Harfangers' glory, such as it has ever been, on the condition you allow my brother to return to Narnia alive and with no further damage done to him."

Morfran suddenly grinned. "What of his obligation to my sister?"

Bile surged but Edmund swallowed it back then replied steadily, "I will fulfill it."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Dun, dun, dun! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one!**


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Divisions

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Seventeen: Divisions

Dusk was falling again by the time the Kentauri rejoined them. Alambiel kept her mouth shut about the fresh bruise along his ribs just below his shoulder. There was a more concerning matter for the moment. "Thalia never checked back in with us."

Oreius' dark eyes were shuttered behind immovable impassiveness. He flicked his tail once then rumbled, "Where do you think she has gone?"

"She's staying with Peter. The problem is I don't know if she's going to be able to keep from interfering." Alambiel glanced at him. "Neither of us would be able to, after all. And you saw how upsetting this has been for her whenever she reports back." Gathering Pepin's reins, Alambiel swung herself up into the saddle and called over her shoulder, "Come on, Lucy, they've rested enough."

"You do not intend to stop."

It was not a question but she treated it as though it was as she murmured, "That feeling of dread you mentioned last night. I can feel it too. We must press on. Thalia said we were only a day and a half away from their camp. If we press on, we can attack in the hour or so before dawn."

She stared at Pepin's neck in gathering gloom then glanced at Oreius. He was adjusting his swords again, probably the closest thing to a nervous tic he had. He still refused to let go of his plan. It was part of the reason he had left as soon as Thalia reported her attempt to slow the Giants and the success in forcing them to separate in small search parties. She hated the distance between them but, in her heart, she could not bear the idea of giving her blessing or her support to Oreius' plan. It would be tantamount to agreeing with him that his suicide was necessary. Sacrifice is how he saw it, part of his job as the General, but she could not see it that way. She would never be able to see it that way.

The bitter whisper slipped free before she could stop it, "Are you even going to try to come back to me?"

She startled a little when his hand covered hers. Pepin whickered but didn't stop, after so many years the gelding was unperturbed by most of the antics his mistress might get up to while in the saddle. Of course, he always acted unperturbed . . . unless there were apples involved, then he was a pest until he got some too. She would leave him behind and turn him toward home when they went into battle. She had no desire for the faithful animal to end up on a Giant's menu. Alambiel forced her mind back to Oreius. He squeezed her hands and then leaned in close and breathed in her ear, "I will try, my sweet. I will always try."

He might intend to try but when the heat of battle caught him up, when he threw himself wholeheartedly into his quest to save the Kings and duty was at the forefront of his mind, he would not try so very hard because he would concentrate on taking whatever steps were necessary to draw the Giants away from them. Even if it meant his life. Alambiel met his eyes for a moment and then turned away. "I love you but I will not be able to forgive you for this one."

She nudged Pepin with her heels and the gelding obediently picked up his pace, putting distance between her and her heart before she gave into wretched tears. Oreius wanted her to distance herself and he wanted her to be cold and professional when it came to the plan. If that was what he wanted, she would give it to him.

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Edmund fumed as he paced around the little alcove. Peter hadn't regained consciousness and as far as he was concerned that was a good thing right now. Morfran had laughed at his offer and made a crude remark regarding Fea's likelihood of sharing him with Nemain. Then he had simply sent him back to the alcove, loudly proclaiming he would let Fea and Nemain choose whether to accept his offer. Clenching his fists, Edmund resisted the idiotic impulse to run out there and pummel Morfran until he agreed to let Peter go. He had to think. He had to bide his time. He had to figure out what Morfran's game was now.

Morfran wanted Fea, that much was clear. Fea controlled who would succeed Bork as king and the current queen plotted with her to infuse the Harfanger line with human blood, elevating them above the other Northern Giants. If Morfran married her, he would be king. Bork was always a threat but Edmund had long suspected that there was a puppet master pulling the Harfanger king's strings. Now he knew. This Morrigan controlled the king and no doubt she was responsible for plotting the attacks that had led Peter and him to the northern border, making easy targets for this foul scheme.

But Morfran was the weak link. He had to be. Edmund remembered the references to Bork made by the Ettin leader, Culhwch, and how much plotting had mixed with the frustrated sullenness in Morfran's eyes as a result of such taunts. If he could persuade Morfran that he would rather have Nemain (of all the revolting ideas), then perhaps the Giant would agree to let Peter go if he was able to claim Fea as he wanted. Edmund glared at the Harfanger.

"Morfran! Where are my kin?" Culhwch lumbered into camp, trailed by the other Ettins, although they looked to be missing two more of their number. The two-headed Ettin stopped in front of Morfran. "What'd you do? Murder 'em too? Like Mork?"

Morfran's beard split as he sneered in response. "If you lost your kin, I had no hand in it."

"You murdered 'em."

The dark Harfanger guffawed with feigned delight and slapped his knee before rising from his impromptu throne of boulders. "Not I. Maybe it was the ghosts." His gaze hardened into a dangerous glint as he stared at the two Ettins from before. "If I were to murder some of your kin, it would be the ones who allowed the prizes to escape and then damaged one of them. I should take it out of their hides."

Culhwch shoved him then puffed his chest out. "You won't kill more or I will kill three of yours to make up for the three I lost."

Morfran shoved him back. "Only one of your kin had his blood spilled by Harfang. There is Grawk, kill him if you want. If you kill another, the ghosts will come for you and your kin. Maybe they already have."

The Ettin who had complained of the bug bite earlier in the day suddenly swayed and then he collapsed, landing facedown between the two feuding Giants. Culhwch stared and even Mofran looked taken aback before he recovered with an alacrity that Edmund had to admire grudgingly. He pointed to the fallen Ettin. "See? The ghosts have turned on you, Culhwch, and your kin."

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Standing in the shadows, Thalia could not help the faint sense of satisfaction that arced through her when the Ettin who had so cruelly abused her Peter at last succumbed to the toxins. She bit her lip then whispered a soundless prayer begging for forgiveness for her hard heart in this matter. Still, she raised her dartpipe once more. But this time when she examined her kit holding the darts all tipped with mixtures of various poisons from plants, her fingers did not draw out the slow poison that felled that first Giant. They went to the swiftest and most potent of poisons, the ones that were achieved by combining two or three plants together whose toxins complemented each other. The skill in combining them was one taught to her by her mother and by the Princess Royal when Peter had asked Alambiel to teach her how to defend herself. As a Beech Nymph, as a Dryad, she knew the plants of Narnia and under the tutelage of the two older Nymphs she had learned to harness their defenses into her own for she not an adept at archery (though she was far better than the Princess Royal . . . although most of the seedlings were as well) nor did she wield a blade as skillfully as Lucy or Alambiel. In truth, the plants were her best defense. Never had she imagined that she would need to use them as an offense. Nevertheless, for Peter, she would do so. She would defend her brave oak from those who would cut him down at the roots.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! And yes, the dartpipe is the same as a blowgun/blowpipe but I tried to give it a name more suited to Narnia. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Decision

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eighteen: Decision

He hadn't expected the Ettin to drop dead but the unease in the remaining Giants' faces was clear and he would seize the opportunity. Edmund scrambled up from where he had been kneeling beside Peter and walked to the edge of the circle formed by the muttering Giants. "Oi! Now you have made enemies who will not allow you to live past sunrise!"

The Ettins stirred uneasily (after all, it was their fellow who had fallen) and then one of them asked, "What's 'e sayin'? Cursed?"

Warming to his plan, Edmund fixed them all with a black look and, raising his arm, pointed a single accusatory finger at them. His voice cold and unwavering, he answered, "Aye, you are, poor fools! Do you not know the stories? When innocent blood is spilt, Narnia's ghosts are drawn from their rest and comb the lands, seas, and air hunting those who would dare commit such crimes. When it is royal blood spilt, their hunger for justice, for vengeance, grows even stronger and they cannot be dispelled to their rest."

"Lies," muttered one of the Harfangers.

"Is it? Did you not say yourself that the ghosts killed that one?" Edmund jabbed his finger in the direction of the corpse. The Giants looked uneasily at the fallen Ettin and then shuffled further away from his body.

Morfran scowled and ran his fingers through his beard. "No, the ghosts are only angry with the Ettins for their weakness and treachery."

Culhwch's heads turned to glare at the dark Harfanger. He took a menacing step toward him. "What's to say you didn't poison him? Like you killed the others of my kin who went missin' after we hunted for your idiot sister?"

If they started brawling, they'd probably squash Peter before he could drag him to safety. Gathering himself as though he stood before unruly members of the court instead of temperamental Northern Giants, Edmund raised his voice and coldly interjected, "That does not mean ill will not befall you and yours, Morfran of Harfang. Indeed, I judge you are the most responsible for the crimes wrought against Our people, Our royal person, and Our High King's person. More you have plotted to aid in the commitment of atrocities against Ourself and Our Royal Brother the High King. You permitted Us to be treated as dumb animals or, worse, mere trinkets to be used until Our usefulness has been depleted and then you no doubt plan to kill Us. Yet there is still time for you turn away from this evil you have committed and prove yourself deserving of some small mercy rather than the full justice delivered by those unseen spirits who watch you even now. If you release Us and Our Royal Brother with no further harm done, perhaps you will survive to see tomorrow's sunset."

Morfran's eyes narrowed. "You cannot prove it. None of mine have died. Why should I release the prizes when-"

His threat was cut off as he suddenly stumbled as one of the Harfangers staggered into his back. He whirled, a curse already hurling through the air, and raised his fist to pummel the unfortunate lackwit but the blow never fell. Instead, Morfran took a step back from the other Harfanger but he became entangled as the fellow lurched forward and grasped at his tunic with one hand while clutching the side of his neck with his other hand. But it did no good. In less than a heartbeat, the Harfanger drew one last rattling breath and then he slumped to the ground, his wildly-staring eyes filming over as death settled its stole over him.

Edmund forced himself to show no surprise when the Giants cast fearful looks over their shoulders at where he still stood. Instead, he crossed his arms and raised his chin. "As I warned, Morfran, you will not emerge from this untouched. Unless you agree to release Us and Our Royal Brother."

At first, he did not think the Harfang Giant would cooperate. Morfran's beard fairly shook as the Giant ground his jaw. Then he reached up and tugged at his beard, his hate-filled eyes travelling from his fallen comrade to where Edmund stood and then back before he finally turned to Edmund a final time. "And if I release you and you take your brother away, the ghosts will no longer attack us?"

Edmund remained motionless save for arching a single eyebrow. "Well, if the ghosts attack you because of Us, it would be only reasonable to presume their attacks will cease when we have returned safely to Narnia."

The Giants murmured to each other. Morfran stared at him, eyes narrowing further, but finally he nodded. "Go. I will lose no more kin to the ghosts who protect you."

 _Thank you, Aslan._ Edmund took a single step back. Now, he need only wake Peter up, get the great lummox on his feet, and head south. Then he froze as two dishearteningly familiar shapes emerged from the night's darkness. Fea, with one hand clasping Nemain by the wrist, glared at him. "You cannot let our prizes go, Morfran!"

Nemain sniggered. "Prize!"

Fea released her kinswoman's wrist and stomped over to Morfran, glaring up at him again. "Fool! Fool! Fool! You think Morrigan would tolerate your foolishness? The dark one lies to you. He wants to pull the mist down over your sight as the Witch did to your father when she promised to give us lands in Narnia where we might feast on Centaurs, Satyrs and Fauns, and as many fat beasts as we could catch. Would you be so foolish as that? Remember his foolishness caused Morrigan to aid Bors and Borak in overthrowing him because the Witch lied to our people. Like my clever, foolish prize lies to you now. Will you be as stupid as your father?"

Morfran's gaze was murderous as he turned it on Edmund. "I am not him. And Bors did not live long. Borak will not live long. Borak is weak like your father." He stomped closer to Edmund and growled, "And Fea will give me children, not scrawny freaks fathered by you. I am not my father. I am not content to share the queen with a brother or any other rival who pleases her eyes as long as I am king. I will have no rivals so my sons will take the throne of Harfang unchallenged."

Edmund grimaced. "I don't bloody want her! I have no desire to be bloody forced into a bloody marriage!" He scowled at Morfran. "But your willingness to marry such close kin is the perfect example of why your people are failing. You have bred your own weakness and your own bleak future because of your avarice, your malice, and your cruel disregard for the sanctity of life, especially that belonging to those beings called forth and blessed with Aslan's very breath. You commit atrocity upon atrocity against your neighbors, your own people, and your kin. For what purpose? To build an empire that will collapse within a generation if not sooner? To grasp at what has not been given to you and neglect what was granted to you? Are you such poor stewards? Such poor judges of what is right and wrong? Instead of learning from the example of your Narnian cousins and seeking to know the Great Lion in His truth, in His mercy, and in His love, you revel in your own destructive ways." Edmund caught a glimpse of sneers appearing on Fea, Morfran, and Culhwch's faces and his temper spilled over. Drawing himself up, he coldly bit off his next words, "How you would answer to the charge of condemning your own people? For if you persist in this plan and do not release Us and Our Royal Brother, Narnia will declare war on your people and will not rest until We are recovered. Now is the time to decide. Will you bring further destruction on those you should be leading and protecting? Or will you put off your destruction?"

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"It is perfectly reasonable for one of our number to remain inactive in this coming battle."

Remus started to ask a question but Queen Lucy grabbed his muzzle. He glanced at her in silent wonder then his attention was recaptured by the General's mate snarling, "Oh really? It makes perfectly good sense for you to try to tell me, the only other swordmaster present, to sit this one out? Did you hit your head while you were out tempting death?"

The General scowled but he didn't snarl. Instead, he had that same weary tone that Alpha used sometimes when telling him and Romulus that they couldn't bring frogs to him (even though they are very good for fixing injuries) and he asked why not. Alpha never answered his question. But the General did answer his mate's question. Maybe it was because he thought she would bite him if he didn't. "You know there is a reason you should stay behind."

"No I don't. And you don't either. Not being able to say no is not the same as saying yes, just so you know. And there are only nine of us. Peter and Edmund have likely called the wrath of Murphy down on them even more because Thalia still hasn't reported back, so actually there's only seven of us who can participate in this particular plan because you don't count either since you have a different task. Even if you killed two Giants, there's still thirteen left. Eleven if the Giantesses are still out wandering. Seven people are going to be hard-pressed to take on three Giants. Reducing our numbers any further is the equivalent of handing ourselves over to the Grim Reaper."

Remus cocked his head. "Who's that? How do you reap a grim? Is it a grim person? Or is it a plant? Why would we go with him? Why-"

"Remus!" He ducked his head and tucked his tail in with a soft whine as the Princess Royal growled at him but she had already turned her bite back on her mate. "This plan is suicidal at best. Therefore, we will all be participating in it. Otherwise the Giants will have us in a pie."

"Sepphora, you must stay-"

"Don't you 'Sepphora' me." She pressed closer to the General, a claw tapping against his chest, as she snarled low, "Don't. I am not going to stay behind."

The General flicked his tail then he dipped his head. "As you wish. I have done."

Remus watched him walk away and then the Princess Royal turned back to where they waited. She did not smile or laugh. If she had proper ears, they would have been pinned flat in anger and her ruff would be on end. She cleared her throat. "You remember the plan. We will get as close to the Giants' camp as possible while Oreius works his way north and west of us. Once he has drawn their attention, we will split up and work on luring the ones who don't fall for it away from the Kings. Lucy, try to reach them as soon as you see the opportunity. Remus, Romulus. You will stay with the Valiant, understand?"

Remus and Romulus both growled their assent. Remus added, "We'll make sure she reaches Alpha and King Peter."

"Good."

She looked up and he wondered if she was going to howl at the moon, singing a battle challenge, but then he realized the time for challenges were over. Their enemies would not receive any warnings this time. The Giants had taken Alpha and the High King. They had hurt his Alpha. He growled low in his throat at the thought then checked himself, expecting a scolding. But Princess Alambiel was already walking away.

Getting up, Remus trotted after her because Ptah wasn't following her even though he should. He didn't want her to wander off and get taken by the Giants. He stopped when the Princess Royal found her mate. Remus tilted his head as he watched the General come close and then he rested his paws on her shoulders as he bent to touch his forehead to hers like mated Wolves sometimes touch noses. "Alambiel, promise me that if things go ill, you will not try to come to my aid. Promise me that you will retreat with our Kings and Queen and as many of our people as possible. Fall back where the Giants cannot reach you and then run for the south. Do not stop until you reach Narnia again. Promise me."

"I can't give you permission to die, Oreius."

"I know." The General stepped back from her and Remus could smell a bitter mix of sadness and resignation that his nose itch. "I know, Sweetheart. May Aslan keep you between His paws until next we meet."

As the General galloped away, Remus crept forward until he could butt his head against the Princess Royal's hand. "Princess Alambiel? Is the General worried about your puppy?"

"It doesn't matter, Remus. Go find your brother and tell Ptah to meet me here. It's time to get our Kings back."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Things are getting tense, no? Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Eclipsed

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Nineteen: Eclipsed

"Will you put off your destruction?" Edmund repeated. He moved closer to the Giants. "Will you put off your people's destruction by releasing us? It is your only chance."

Morfran sneered and then he carelessly slapped Edmund to the ground. "We will use you to put off our people's destruction. Or perhaps we shall use just your brother."

Edmund's vision swam and he tasted copper as blood filled his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue. His right side was throbbing in one dull ache. He bowed his head and spat blood onto the stony ground. "Fools. You have no idea the power that lies in the heart of Narnia or in Us because We are Aslan's own."

"Where is your Great Cat? He's been killed once. Maybe he was killed again," Fea mocked. "Your superstitions are as foolish as my kin's belief in murderous ghosts."

"And you, Lady, shall learn Aslan's power but I do not think you will enjoy the lesson. I-" Edmund cut himself as a horrible scream filled the air. "Peter!" He staggered to his feet and turned to see Nemain crouched over Peter, dragging him close to her by his dislocated arm. "No! Let him go!"

The Giantess dropped Peter in surprise as she turned her head to blink stupidly at him. "My prize broke." She abruptly raised her hand and balled into a fist. "Broke!"

"No!" Gathering his strength, Edmund snatched one of the Giant's knives and slashed Nemain's leg. The Giantess howled. He slashed again, this time cutting into the tendons between her knee and hamstring. As her leg began to crumple, he leapt to the other side and slashed out at her right leg. But the heavy awkward knife never scored another mark into the Giantess' leathery skin. Edmund caught a glimpse of a hand almost as wide as his torso was long a moment too late. The impact drove the air from his lungs and they seemed to curl in on themselves, screaming for relief, as his ribs cracked beneath the pressure and he was flung to the ground, gasping with the desperation of a drowning man caught in a storm-wild sea.

Fire. Every movement, every breath was fire licking at his side, his lungs, even his head, which spun like the little toy tops Lucy and Peter had let go spinning down the banisters. Much to Susan's resigned amusement and Corin's delight. Fea was raging but the words slid over his ears without ever dropping in as he slowly turned his head, cheek scraping against rocks as he did so, and stared as the two-headed Giantess stomped toward Nemain who was still thrashing and wailing where she had fallen. _Oh Aslan, don't let her kick Peter._

Jeering laughter finally penetrated the drums pounding in his brains. Edmund braced one hand beneath him and pushed up, ignoring the pain and dizziness, until he could see the Giants rushing him. But then a voice called out once and the eager rush stopped, reluctantly and with many a muttered protest, but it stopped. Then Morfran shoved through the knot of Giants. He placed his hands on his hips, looping his thumbs and first fingers through the top of his wide, stained leather belt, and grinned down at where Edmund struggled to straighten up. "Will you put off _your_ destruction, little king?"

Edmund glared. "And just how do you expect me to do that?"

He levered himself up so he could bring one foot beneath him, planting it solidly on the ground even though he remained half-crouched. His right arm pulsed with dull flashes of pain and his head threatened to spin with every movement. Every breath threatened to steal his sense away. But still he managed to stagger upright, even if he did list a little, and he stared up at Morfran. The dark Harfanger's small eyes gleamed with wicked amusement as he ran a six-fingered hand through his beard, setting the bones and beads clattering, before he boomed in unnecessarily loud tones, "Why through combat, little king! You use champions to fight for you, do you not? Come now and be your brother's champion. If you draw first blood, I will let him go south and let Narnia take one king back. As Nemain says, he is broken now."

"And who's fault is that?" Edmund snapped. He forced himself to stand straight and raised his left hand to point at the leering Giants gathered around them, their hideous grins cast into terrifying relief by the dying embers of the bonfire. "And who will keep them from killing me or my brother the moment it looks as though I might succeed in the challenge? And what weapon shall I use since I have none? Shall I pelt you with rocks and hope to bloody your nose faster than you can step on me? That is no champion's fight, Morfran. But perhaps you are content to only challenge someone when they are completely at the disadvantage even if it is the coward's way of handling such matters. Unfitting for champions and even more unfitting for one who would be a better king than Borak. But if that is the way you wish to fight then do not let my words trouble you or cause any consternation among your fellows. I'm sure they'll be content to follow a king who wouldn't even let a weak human attempt to have a fair fight and give you just a hint of challenge. Cowards are very popular leaders, you know."

The amusement had faded from Morfran's expression and now his teeth were bared in an ugly snarl as he plunged a hand into his pouch. "I am Morfran. I am not afraid of a human who will end his days in a pie! You wish to be armed, so be it." Edmund's heart leapt with impossible hope as the Harfanger yanked Shafhelm, still in its sheath, out of the pouch. He did not even growl when Morfran spitefully cast the sword to the ground just in front of him. The Harfanger sneered. "Take up your sword, little king, and fight me if you can."

Blackness closed in, threatening to completely swamp his vision, as he leaned down and picked Shafhelm up with his left hand but the familiar weight of the blade was a comfort. He awkwardly undid the buckle as he pushed through the pain of his ribs and right arm (he was beginning to think he had cracked something) then settled the belt around his hips. Drawing Shafhelm left-handed, Edmund shifted his weight until his right foot was behind him and he had most of his weight on his left leg. He flicked the blade up in a slight salute. "I draw first blood, Peter is returned to Narnia alive and with no further harm. Swear it."

"I swear by my grandfather's left hand."

There was a mocking edge to Morfran's tone and, under normal circumstances, Edmund would not have agreed to a hopeless battle. He would have found a loophole to exploit, something that would allow Narnia to walk away from the fight without losing face or ground. But this was not a normal battle. It was not even a normal champions' challenge. It was just another cruel machination of the Northern Giants as they reveled in proving their prey's weakness and hopeless position. But it was the only way to save Peter. It was the only way to try and get his lummox of a big brother home before the Giants killed him through neglect and tantrum. He knew he would not win the battle but he did not need to win. He only needed to draw the first blood to stain the ground. And, Aslan willing, that was exactly what he would do.

Tightening his grip on Shafhelm's hilt, Edmund lunged, swiping at Morfran's leg. Morfran stepped back with a belly laugh as he casually cradled his spear with one hand. "Come, little king, prove your strength."

It was dangerous to play Morfran's game. But he had no choice. Edmund turned and nearly went down on one knee when his vision swam nauseatingly. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. The ground trembled beneath his feet. Morfran was coming closer. Edmund didn't move. The heavy steps came even closer. Edmund lunged, Shahelm flashing in the dull light of the dying fire, and Morfran sidestepped. The sword tore through his filthy leggings but drew no blood. Morfran's spear haft smacked into Edmund's right side and hip, knocking him off his feet. Shafhelm fell with a clatter. Edmund could taste blood in his mouth again. He swallowed it then rolled onto his back and gasped as sharp lances of pain tore into his ribs, his side, and his hip with as much enthusiasm as the Greybacks tore into the gardens when they were bothering Sophocles. His ears rang and the drums pounding on his brains had picked up the tempo like a score of drunk Dwarfs were trying to outdo each other.

Peter needed him. He had to draw first blood. Flinging out his left hand, Edmund felt across the cold stone ground until he touched metal. His fingers wrapped around the pommel and dragged Shafhelm toward him. He needed to sit up but his head was too heavy. The ground trembled and Morfran's odious laughter boomed out. Edmund blinked, trying to clear his vision, and then he rolled over onto his left side, still clinging to the sword. He just needed to cut him once. Morfran laughed and leered as he stomped closer, swinging the butt of the spear toward him, but then he leaned down and reached out as he mocked, "What's this, little king? Are you going to sleep now? Wake up! Wake up! Wake up and fight for your brother! Have you surrendered?" His hand came closer as he added, "Where is your lion now?"

"Here," Edmund rasped then he grasped Shafhelm with his right hand, pushed up on his left elbow, and swung with all his might at Morfran's six fingers. The pain was unbearable and he felt something snap in his wrist but it was Morfran who howled and yanked his hand away. Fat drops of dark red blood bubbled up from the deep cut in the flesh of his littlest finger and then tumbled like drops of ruby rain to splash the ground. He swung the butt of spear toward Edmund's chest with far more force than any of his other strikes. Edmund let Shafhelm fall as he called as loudly as he could, "First blood!"

Then a large shadow lunged between him and the spear. Edmund's eyes widened as the solid wood collided with Peter's shoulder and chest with an awful crack. His brother's dirty, bearded face went completely white, showing even through the filth, but he didn't utter a sound as he fell heavily, landing on Edmund's legs.

Edmund screamed, "Noooo! Peeeeeter! Noooo!" He couldn't tell if he was breathing. Oh Aslan, he couldn't tell if he was breathing.

Morfran's evil chuckle grated against his ears as he once more raised his spear. "Your brother is free now." He flipped the spear around so now the spearhead pointed toward Edmund's legs. "Now for you."

"You swore," Edmund gasped in a last desperate attempt to divert the Giant's attention, "you swore by your grandfather's left hand you would let him go."

Morfran laughed. "My grandfather had no left hand. Morrigan cut it off. I shall take only your leg. Nemain will not mind. I shall not take-" He cut himself off as a terrified cry erupted from the darkness to the north of the camp. The Giants are shifted about nervously, some of them stooping and raising their arms to cover their heads as though that would protect them from whatever now hunted in the fading darkness. Morfran scowled, lowering his spear slightly, and snapped, "Torgern, go see what it is and find that idiot Vorsh."

One of the Harfangers looked nervously at him but then he grasped his cudgel and stomped to the darkest shadows. He didn't even reach the edge of the camp when he suddenly screamed. Edmund's eyes widened in disbelief as the Giant tumbled back, thrashing as a huge shadow bowled him over, then Torgern shuddered, an ugly gurgle filling the air for the briefest of moments, and then he went still. The shadow moved away from the fallen Harfanger and raised a claymore dark with blood. Stern and with the promise of death written across his dark face, Oreius emerged into the fading light of the fire. "You wish a battle of champions, Morfran of Harfang?"

Morfran's eyes narrowed as he uttered a blistering oath and then rumbled, "You again. This time I'll bite off your head." He charged the Centaur with a shout.

Edmund stared at the General. His aching head didn't want to speculate but the odd thought occurred to him that perhaps Oreius had taken up haunting. His attention was yanked away from the Centaur who might be dead when his right arm was suddenly crushed. A yell escaped him as he was dragged out from under Peter's bulk. Fea sneered at him. "Where is your lion now, little king?"

She didn't give him the chance to answer before she tossed him toward the bonfire, he could feel the last lingering heat against his back but his limbs refused to obey him when he tried to rise, tried to get between her and Peter. Fea crouched down next to his brother and then she placed two fingers against his chest and began to push down. Peter screamed before the pressure cut off his breath. Fea's larger head laughed idiotically. "Bye Prize. Bye Prize. Prize in Pie."

She kept pressing down. Peter's struggles were growing weaker and weaker. Edmund fought his own weakness as he tried again to get up, to get back to Peter and stop her from killing him. Blood filled his mouth and he could taste its bitter copper with painful clarity. He spat the blood out then put his right hand down on the ground. The white-hot pain nearly sent him toppling on his face again and a scream was torn free as he teetered onto his left hand, removing the pressure. He glanced down and noted with an almost dazed disinterest that he could see white poking through his skin just above his wrist. Susan was going to have a fit when she saw it.

"Fea! Fea! Morfran! Morfran!" The frantic call barely penetrated the fog now threatening to steal over his sense but Edmund looked around to see Nemain curled on her side, hugging her wounded leg to her chest, but her face was turned away from them and she was pointing at . . . a cat. No, a Big Cat and . . . a woman as they attacked another Harfanger. Nemain whimpered pathetically as she tried to back away from Kat and Ptah, not realizing they were ignoring her.

Fea took several steps toward her kinswoman but then she stopped, watching as Kat grabbed the cudgel just as the Giant was lifting and used his own strength against him until she could throw a knife into his eye. His howl filled the air just as two more roars echoed out of the shadows. Big Cat roars.

Edmund's bloody lips tilted up into a slight smile as the Giantess turned both heads to stare at him. "Aslan hears."

Her glowers were wondrous but then her gaze left him and a murderous light kindled in the smaller head's eyes while her larger head just gaped idiotically. Edmund followed her gaze and twisted to look over his shoulder. A Nymph, green beech leaves in her nut-brown hair and clad in a diaphanous, spring-bright green gown, was kneeling beside Peter. Her slender fingers were combing through his brother's hair as she gently lifted his head into her lap. Edmund blinked. Thalia. But how? He didn't know. But this was certainly not the reunion he had hoped to give the two. What was Peter going to say when he realized his precious wife was here and about to join him in death?

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The leader of the Harfangers would never be allowed to harm his colts again. Nor would he be permitted to harm any other innocents. Oreius backed slowly away from the dark-haired Giant, allowing him to believe that he was winning.

He reared as Morfran's spear flashed low, sweeping toward his forelegs. Bringing the claymore down, he sliced deeply into the Giant's arm. The Harfanger fell back with a curse but then he swept the spear toward him once more, this time haft first. Oreius leapt to the side but was forced to shorten his jump by the rocky outcropping to his left. The spear haft slammed into his horse ribs and rammed him against the outcropping, driving the breath from him.

Oreius wrapped a hand around the spear haft and shoved it away then he galloped forward, raising his claymore once more. He scored the Giant's right thigh but Morfran scrambled back before he could sever a tendon and cripple him. The spear once more collided with Oreius' ribs and knocked him off his hooves. He landed heavily on his side but got his hooves beneath him and surged up before the Giant could follow through with another attack.

He could hear screams and cries of alarm rising from the camp. The others must have begun their assault. Morfran looked over his shoulder and Oreius lunged. His claymore punctured Morfran's gut and the Giant let out a cry before he grabbed Oreius by the upper arm and hurled him away.

Pain flared as his right shoulder was dislocated and the Centaur struggled to get back up. Morfran bore down on him. Oreius swung the claymore hard against the sword, severing the head from the haft, but he could not completely block the strike. The spear haft rammed into his wounded shoulder and a shard of wood pierced him. Ignoring it, the Centaur shoved the spear away, causing Morfran to stumble closer, and then he drove his claymore up beneath the Giant's ribs until he struck lung and heart. Morfran's cruel eyes widened suddenly and he frantically pawed at the claymore but it was too late. His movements slowed and grew jerky until they finally ceased all together. The Harfanger staggered and then slumped to the ground, his eyes wide and clouded by death.

Oreius freed his claymore and wiped the blade on the Giant's torn tunic. Outraged shouts and the ground shaking beneath his hooves were the only warning. He jumped back instinctively as a cudgel swept through the air in front of him. A Giant gave a brutish laugh and Oreius let out a wordless battle cry as he reared then charged. They both tumbled to the ground and his claymore bit deep into the Giant's side. The Harfanger cried out and swatted him to the side. Oreius gained his hooves but the Giant was already scrabbling away from him, one large hand pressed against his bloodied side. He turned and fled north, ignoring his companion's jeers and shouts to keep fighting.

Oreius let out a breath then grimaced as pain licked his shoulder when he attempted to raise the claymore once more. He had pushed too far. Sheathing his claymore, he drew a single one-handed sword as the remaining Giant turned back toward him. They charged at the same time. Sword and cudgel both swung but it was Oreius who moved too slowly now. His blade cut into the Ettin's arm but he failed to put enough distance between himself and the cudgel. He felt his ribs, both horse and human, snap as the cudgel swatted him to the ground.

Breathing hurt but Oreius forced himself to regain his hooves. He could not allow any Giant he could stop to turn back. The colts, the fillies, Alambiel, they all needed him to succeed in thinning out their enemy. He could not and would not stop. He charged the Giant once more, this time he leapt over the cudgel and drove his sword point first into the Giant's stomach. The Giant shouted in fury and pain then reversed his swing. The cudgel once more bore Oreius to the ground. He felt one of his legs snap.

Pain threatened to overwhelm him. "Aslan." He had no more breath to spare, not even for his desperate plea, but he knew the Great Lion heard him all the same. Oreius scrambled back to his hooves then reared. The Giant raised his cudgel then gasped and his weapon slipped from his limp fingers as he slapped a hand against the sword that had been driven between his ribs. Death's white film was already creeping over his piggish eyes as he turned a glare on Oreius and then he reached out with his last strength and knocked the Centaur to the ground once again. Pain at last won as his broken bones ground against each other. Oreius gasped as the darkness crept across his vision. In the distance, he thought he heard Alambiel cry out, "Oreius!" But darkness took him and he knew no more.

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Her poor Peter. Oh, her poor, brave oak. Thalia stroked her fingers through his filthy, matted hair then leaned down to press soft kisses against his brow as she murmured, "Peter, oh Peter. Oh my poor Peter. You must wake."

He stirred and the sun began to shine on her Tree again, warming her from root to canopy, as hope gained strength. His eyelids fluttered and then he opened them, allowing her to see his eyes that were the color of the sky and sea. His swollen, bruised lips parted slightly and he started to try to sit up. "T-Thalia? Wh-where?"

"No, do not try to move yet." She pressed another kiss to his brow. "Shh, we have come to take you home. Just lie still for now."

Peter looked at her with a touch of confusion. "I'm dreaming. I'm sorry, Flower. Never meant to get so many people hurt. They're all dead because of me."

"No," Thalia whispered as she stroked his matted hair. "Oh no, Peter, you mustn't think that. You mustn't-"

The ground shook. Thalia looked up and met the hate-filled gazes of Fea's two heads. Even though her larger head was cross-eyed, there was no lack of focus on the Giantess' part. She held up a notched knife and ran toward them, her feet pounding against the ground. Thalia's hand fell to the slender pipe at her belt. Raising the dartpipe to her mouth, she blew into it. The Giantess raised a hand to one of her throats. She plucked the dart out and the smaller head stared at it for a moment before she turned a hateful glare on Thalia. "You will die."

She took a step toward her then her larger head gasped and one of her hands began clawing at her throat. Thalia lowered the dartpipe but she didn't flinch away from the Giantess. Instead, anger's hot flames licked her Tree as she raised her chin. "No, it is you who shall perish. And you will perish swiftly but only because there is no torment in this life that would make you suffer enough to repay the harm you have caused to my husband and brother."

Fea choked as foam appeared at the corners of her mouths. She took another menacing step toward them but then her eyes filled with fear and desperation as she gasped and choked once more. The Giantess let out a strangled curse and then staggered back several steps before she finally fell to her knees. She looked at Thalia once more but there was no peace in her eyes, only fear and despair as she died. Fea choked once and then, with a final shudder, her eyes closed and she fell facedown on the ground.

Thalia shook her head, feeling a vague sorrow that the Giantess had died without knowing Aslan. A pained groan caught her attention just as Edmund crawled over to them. Her husband's brother looked almost as terrible as he did but his dark eyes glinted with sardonic humor. "Thalia, have I ever told you that you're far scarier than I ever thought you could be?"

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Remus snarled as he bit one of the Giants on the hand. He curled his lips and stuck his tongue out, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. The Giant tasted worse than the celery sticks he tried to eat when Alpha wasn't looking. The Giant tried to step on Queen Lucy. Remus leapt forward and bit him in the ankle while Romulus tore a strip from his other hand. The Giant squawked and wailed like the silly geese at home then Queen Lucy bit him with an arrow.

Remus' nose twitched and then he let go of the Giant and unleashed a joyous howl, tail wagging so hard that he wriggled. "Alpha! Alpha! Romulus, Queen Lucy! Alpha's here!" He howled again then yipped as he bounded over a dead Giantess and spotted him. King Peter was lying on the ground and his mate was with him. Alpha was sitting funny but he looked up when Remus howled. "Alpha! Alpha! We found you! We found you!"

He barreled into Alpha, knocking him flat, and then immediately leapt off him, whimpering an apology as Alpha yelped in pain. Remus licked his cheek. "I'm sorry, Alpha. The Giants hurt you. But I bit a bunch of them!"

Romulus shouldered past him. "And I brought Queen Lucy!"

Remus shoved him with his shoulder, looking down his nose at him. "I brought her! You just followed." He turned back to Alpha and licked him again. "Alpha, you let your fur grow out. Are you going to keep it? How come you keep trying to take it off? Is your face warmer now? You should groom it more often though. You rolled in the dirt without splashing in water."

Alpha looked at him and then huffed a little bark. "Still alive."

"Of course, you're alive, Alpha," Romulus stated.

Remus nodded happily. "Because we found you before the Giants could chew on you."

"Edmund! Peter!" Queen Lucy ran over to them. She hugged Alpha despite his growling then she gasped as she picked up Alpha's injured front leg. "Oh, Edmund, this one is bad. Susan's going to have a fit."

Alpha smirked, his teeth just showing in a very Wolf-like grin. "Maybe she'll get mad at Peter instead. He's been unconscious."

The High King mumbled, "Amn't." Then his mate shushed him.

"Not a word," Alpha gasped. "Don't touch, Lu!"

Queen Lucy shook her head. "At least you two can bicker. Susan's going to have words with both of you. How many Giants are there?"

"Fifteen, originally. Not sure how many now." Alpha groaned then pulled away from his littermate. "But, Lu- Look out!"

Remus whirled, ruff standing up, and snarled. Another Giant lumbered toward them. Romulus joined him as he barreled toward the Giant then they split and circled on either side of the Giant. Remus ducked as the Giant swung a log at him then jumped up and bit his wrist. The Giant shouted and tried to shake him off but Remus hung on. He was not going to let a Giant hurt his Alpha again. Growling, he shook his head and bit down harder. The Giant shouted then yelped again and Remus knew his brother had sunk his teeth into him too. The Giant staggered around, bellowing louder than an angry bull Moose, then he gargled like someone had caught him by the throat finally and he started to collapse. Remus let go with a yip of triumph and wagged his tail as he watched the Giant fall over. He howled and touched his nose to Romulus when they met in front of the Giant.

"Remus! Romulus! Come here!"

Queen Lucy waved at them as she held her bow with one paw. The brothers raced over to her, tails wagging and eyes shining. Remus' tongue lolled out in a happy grin. "We did it, Queen Lucy!"

She smiled. "Yes, you did. Now remember, you two stay close and help me keep Edmund and Peter safe. The Giants are coming back over here."

Remus stopped smiling and bared his teeth in a snarl as he whirled to face the coming Giants again. Three of them this time. They were bigger than the other one.

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Alambiel ducked between the Giant's legs, slashing with her knives, not to cripple him, just to annoy. The Giant swore at her and reversed the swing of his cudgel. She grinned, sheathed her knives, and jumped on the cudgel, narrowly avoiding the spikes. Thank Aslan, the sides of the spikes were dull so she could brace herself against them. The Giant stared at her, befuddlement making his mouth drop open. She laughed. "Try the other way again! Maybe you'll shake me off!"

His mouth closed and his eyes narrowed. "Smash you."

He swung the cudgel and Alambiel let herself drop to the ground then she ran forward, jumping up on a rock as she drew her knives before leaping at the Giant. The Giant was too high, but that didn't last. He slammed down on a knee as a Leopard roared and Ptah leapt on his back, biting and clawing his way up to his neck. Alambiel slammed into his face and dug her knives into the tender flesh around his eyes. He howled then tried to bite her. She kicked him in the nose and carved a furrow across his brow, thick blood spilling up and falling into his eyes, blinding him. He swiped wildly at his face and Alambiel jumped off, narrowly missing being crushed by his flailing hands. Ptah roared then bit him in the side of his neck, severing his carotid artery, before he leapt down.

Alambiel scanned the camp. It was in utter chaos. Some of the Giants were fleeing, others struggled to fight, and at least two had been incapacitated. They might actually get out of this one alive. Her gaze stopped on a still figure some hundred yards from her. "Oreius." She had seen him fall but somehow she had expected him to be up and in the midst of fighting by now. "Oreius!" He didn't move. She wasn't close enough to see if he was breathing but the eerie sense that her greatest fear had come to life again enveloped her. She started running toward him. "Oreius, get up!"

She had almost reached him when she felt a yank on her skirt that dragged her to the ground. A spear sped through the spot she had just been. Alambiel looked at Ptah. "No."

She tried to pull away but the Leopard pinned her to the ground, growling, "You can't. Look. Listen."

Something in his raspy command penetrated her frantic need to get to Oreius, to see if he was still alive. Then she heard it. The harsh sound of a horn blasting three times in a row. She turned her head. The two-headed Ettin, the one Thalia said was named Culhwch, was blowing on the horn . . . and his call was being answered. More Ettins were scrambling from the western canyons. They had almost pared the number done to a manageable one but now . . . Oh Aslan.

She scrambled to her feet and cast one last look at Oreius. He was hurt. She could see something was wrong with at least one of his legs. And there wasn't a thing she could do for him right now. She looked down for a moment and then spun and raced back to the alcove where the boys had been with Ptah by her side. The Giants' jeers chased her, mocked her.

The Tigers, Bast and Babur, came limping out of the shadows, looking worse for wear. Bast was favoring her right front paw and Babur's left side was matted with blood. At least they were all still alive.

There were two Giants attempting to crush Lucy and the Wolves. Alambiel let out a battle cry then she and Ptah attacked the near Giant's legs. Bast and Babur went after the far Giant. Alambiel caught Lucy's eye and shouted, "Do it now!"

The Valiant Queen gave a curt nod then drew an arrow back to her cheek. She loosed the arrow, which struck the far Giant in the eye. The Tigers tripped him so he tumbled onto his back, dead before he hit the ground. Then the Tigers came after the last Giant. Alambiel dodged his flying fist and grabbed one of her heavier throwing knives. She hurled it at the Giant, who howled when it lodged in the fleshy part of his arm just above his elbow. Then his howl turned into a gurgle when Lucy's arrow caught him in the throat.

After he fell, Alambiel froze in dismay. Culhwch had rallied his forces. Seven Giants stood with him. He raised his cudgel and spear in the air then swung the spear down, levelling it at their small group. "Destroy them!"

Oh they were in so much trouble. She didn't even think that they were going to get out of this one. She looked over her shoulder at their wounded, exhausted group. They had lost Oreius. The Tigers were wounded as were the boys. Even the Wolves looked a little roughed up. They could not possibly hope to defeat eight more Giants. _Oh Aslan, save us._

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Oh Aslan, there were even more Giants. Ettins. Thalia looked down at Peter who had closed his eyes again then she lifted her head in time to see the Princess Royal speaking to Lucy and then motioning for her to go back. Lucy ran to them, her eyes wide and filled with a grim determination. "Kat wants us to move them to the back of this alcove. We should start with Peter; take his head and shoulder, but be careful of his wounds. I'll get his legs."

Thalia nodded then stroked Peter's cheek one last time as she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Be strong, my brave oak. We will try not to cause you too much pain."

It was difficult to hold him without grasping both of his broad shoulders. Indeed, they ended up dragging his rump along the ground because the two of them together simply weren't able to lift him high enough. But, at last, they moved him as close to the cliff face as possible. Thalia dug a rumpled handkerchief out of her bag and gently wiped the sweat and dirt from his face. "Peter?"

He groaned but did not answer. Her heart yearned to linger with him, to tend his wounds until he was mended, but she could not. She touched his face one last time and then hurried to help move Edmund. Her brother-in-law was awake and thus able to take some of his own weight but his legs buckled when his sister accidentally brushed against his broken arm. They caught him before he could do more damage but Thalia could see that Edmund had broken enough of his branches that he would not be able to last long on his own at the moment.

The harsh horn sounded once more and she heard the Beasts answer with growls, roars, and howls. She gazed upon her strong oak one last time and then she picked up her dartpipe, slipped another dart into it, and raced to the mouth of the alcove. Alambiel, Ptah, and Babur had already taken up positions a little ways out from the alcove. Two Giants broke ahead of their fellows and charged with spear and sword in hand. Thalia raised the dartpipe to her lips and blew. One of the Giants staggered then kept lumbering forward, only now his attention was fixed on her. She felt the cold frost of fear until she thought of Peter. He needed her to be strong, to be brave. She would not fail him.

She grabbed another dart and blew. The Giant slapped at his face then his steps finally began to grow sluggish as his breaths came in wheezing gasps then he fell. He hit the ground with such force that Thalia was toppled. Her dartpipe slipped from her fingers. More Giants were coming, their bounding strides shaking the earth, and she could not find the pipe. A huge shadow fell across her. Thalia looked up into the leering face of a one-eyed Giant. She screamed, "Aslan! Aslan! Save us! Help us! Aslan!"

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Thalia was screaming. Peter opened his eyes and raised his head. "Thalia." At first, he didn't believe what he was seeing. His sister, his wife, and Kat were fighting Giants along with several familiar Beasts. He frowned at the two Tigers. "Babur?" But no, it couldn't be. Babur was dead. Crushed by Morfran.

Thalia screamed again. Peter could see a Giant bearing down on her. No. Not his Flower. He struggled to get up but his limbs refused to obey his frantic commands. "Thalia." But his cry was no more than a raspy croak. Oh Aslan, what she doing there? What were any of them doing there? They should have been safe in Cair Paravel. All his fault. It was all his fault.

"Aslan!" Lucy screamed as she loosed an arrow at the Giant attacking Thalia. He jerked away, howling a vile curse as he reached across his body to yank the arrow from his arm. Lucy reached back for another arrow but her fingers grasped nothing. The quiver was empty. "Aslan!"

"Aslan," Peter whispered brokenly. "Aslan."

Then Edmund coughed and rasped, "Aslan."

The Giants only laughed, odiously mocking as they forced Kat and the Beasts to fall back yet kept them from aiding Thalia or Lucy. Pale light began to filter into the camp. Dawn spilling its rays across the winter-touched sky. It did not warm the cold air that promised snow was no longer far off nor did it shine as brightly as he would have wished. It bathed the camp, the bodies, and the fighters in a light that was as pale and frail as his hope. But there was light and it was no longer eclipsed by shadows and darkness.

Peter could almost hear the sweet call of Narnia trumpets as dawn overtook the camp. Indeed, he thought he heard . . . He thought he heard . . . The fighting stilled as the Giants all turned to the southeast. Kat raised her sword and shouted in relief. Peter licked his lips. "Ed? Is that?"

"For Narnia and for Aslan!" The familiar battle cry echoed through the canyons and washed over him. Peter pushed himself up on his good elbow, trying to see. The Narnian horns sounded the charge and then galloping hooves, pounding feet, and roars from many different creatures filled the air. Narnians in silver armor and red tunics attacked the Giants. Five heavy Centaur lancers bowled over every Giant they met with ease. Big Cats, Fauns, Satyrs, and several Elk and two Water Buffalo joined in the fray. Arrows hissed through the air, driving back or killing the Giants who had been menacing the girls.

Culhwch bared his teeth in twin ugly snarls but then he sounded a single long note on his horn. Spinning on his heel, he ran to the west with two more Ettins following him. They managed to outrun the Narnians but their fellows were summarily caught and killed. One of the Centaur lancers and a grizzled Satyr approached Kat. They both snapped a salute.

Peter's elbow slipped as he tried to lever himself up further so he could see Thalia. He caught himself with his other hand. That is, he attempted to catch himself with his other hand but pain swirled around him at the movement. It dragged him down into the whirlpool until there was only darkness left.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Well, that was intense. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	20. Chapter Twenty: Picking Up the Pieces

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty: Picking Up the Pieces

"Come on, talk to me. I'll take you grumbling. Just say something. Please." The murmured words were half-pleading, half-praying as she knelt next to his head with one hand resting gently on his scruffy cheek.

"Kat?"

She raised her head to see Lucy standing close with two of the Centaurs just behind her. She took a deep breath and then nodded. "Ready?"

They moved Oreius onto the large litter and lifted him with ease. Lucy stayed with her, slipping an arm around her waist. "He'll wake up, Kat. Are you sure you don't want me to give him the cordial?"

Alambiel smiled faintly as they started walking. "And let him get into more trouble? No. Besides, Peter regained consciousness long enough to put his foot down on the cordial. Their injuries aren't life-threatening once properly treated."

Lucy huffed as she wrapped her other arm around Thalia once they caught up to her. "He doesn't seem to understand that I am supposed to use my gift. He's forbidden me from carrying it into battle too. He thinks we're too reliant on it."

"He has a point." Alambiel sighed then smiled a little. "Now we get to limp home together. They'll just sleep through it."

She didn't talk about how worried she was that Oreius hadn't stirred or woken. She didn't say a word when the two captains informed her that they would have to push to reach the wagons waiting for them in Narnia because the first snowstorm of winter was brewing behind them. They stopped only twice during the darkest hours of the night to briefly rest. There was always the chance that Ettins or any of the other Northern Giants might notice their passing and decide to attack them for sport. But she didn't mention the fear that the deepening cold would prove increasingly problematic. Her only concession to her worry was climbing into the back of the wagon with Oreius and holding his hand, her fingers on his wrist measuring his too-sluggish pulse. But he had a pulse.

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Culhwch stalked back into the ruined campsite, his heads swiveling from side to side as he observed the dead Ettins and Harfangers. He only cared about retrieving his own dead. The Harfang Giants could rot for all he cared. They were weak in life and they would make weak ghosts too. But the Narnians . . . His eyes narrowed as he contemplated avenging himself on Narnia.

A low whimper filled the air. Culhwch stomped over to one of the corpses and kicked her. The dumb Harfanger, Nemain stared up at him with her good eye. She opened her mouth and moaned, "Halp. Ha-help."

He observed her pitiful face and then nodded. He waited until the hope appeared in her eye before he buried his spear in her breast. Nemain jerked then gasped, confusion and fear replacing hope, as she reached toward him. Her hand fell and her breath rattled then she sighed. Her good eye stared blankly up at the sky as it clouded over. Culhwch smirked as he yanked his spear free.

"Do we chase 'em?"

Something wet and cold hit his skin. Culhwch tilted his head back to see fat white snowflakes falling from the dark clouds above. He sneered. "No. Winter has come. It will overtake us before we overtake them. But in the spring . . ."

He didn't finish his sentence. He didn't need to as his companions burst into ugly laughter before they returned to the task of gathering their dead kin.

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	21. Chapter Twenty-One: Brothers

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-One: Brothers

Susan paced the length of the war room, her velvet skirts of the richest plum swirling with every turn. Captain Ardon was still the only other person aside from Leeta who knew what had happened. Every time the council asked after the other Royals, she wanted to tell them why they were gone even with the Calormene ship due to arrive two scant days. But she could not. She was the Queen. She would find a way to smooth any ruffled feathers among the Calormene delegation no matter how much charm she would have to pour out. Her brothers and sister, her people were counting on her to do so should the worst happen.

Still, her stomach twisted into knots as she thought of her brothers in the hands of Giants for over a week. Over a fortnight if they had not been rescued by now. The vibrant mahogany table in the center of the war room was covered in maps with all possible trails into Ettinsmoor marked out. Captain Ardon had finally conceded to her pleas and posted sentries along the main road to Cair Paravel. As soon as they drew within sight, she should hear of it.

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"How fares the General, Dame Sepphora?"

Alambiel opened her eyes to meet the kind if still serious gaze of the Centaur Captain. She glanced at Oreius' still form then offered a tiny smile she did not feel. "He endures, Captain Marius."

She didn't know him as well as she knew some of the other captains in the army. Marius was one of those Centaurs who didn't approve of her methods or of the fact that Oreius tolerated her antics so much but Oreius spoke highly of him (mainly because Marius hadn't been stupid enough to ever insult her even when he admitted that he did not approve). And if she recalled correctly, he wasn't always comfortable with her being Oreius' wife (again he was smart enough to never say so but she knew how to read a Centaur's body language). Nevertheless, knowing those things, she was not comfortable enough to either drop his title or to confide in him anything less than a positive outlook. The travel had been hard on Oreius and she feared some of the ruts early on had broken some of the ribs that had hitherto only been cracked.

The Centaur nodded then ran his hand over his flowing blond beard. "We should reach Cair Paravel soon."

Alambiel looked up at the sky just as it began to snow. Thick flakes falling in lazy spirals. She glanced at the Centaur. "What time, Captain?"

Marius flicked his tail, looking a bit irritated that the snow had finally caught them. "After dark, perhaps after midnight with the weather turned against us."

She dipped her head slightly. "Thank you for the information. Have you apprised Queen Lucy and Princess Thalia?"

"Not yet, Dame Sepphora. But I will do so now."

As the Centaur galloped to the wagon ahead, Alambiel unfolded another blanket and covered Oreius, wishing he would move or twitch or anything. She tangled her fingers in his hair then murmured, "Wake up soon, Kentauri. Your soldiers are beginning to annoy me with their pitying looks. I'll have to start throwing pudding at them or something."

Pogs, the Red Dwarf driving the wagon, chortled around the stem of his pipe but wisely didn't otherwise indicate that he was listening to her conversation. Alambiel was courteous and didn't throw anything at him. She was too tired to drive the wagon anyway.

Night fell and the snow built up strength until it became a true snowstorm. Alambiel tucked herself against Oreius' uninjured side and pulled the rest of the blankets over them both. His faint breaths tickling her cheek were the only sign that he still lived.

The wagon ride seemed to drag on for eternity but finally she felt it rumble to a stop. Shoving the snow-laden blankets aside, she was pleased to see that not only were they now in Cair Paravel's courtyard but the storm was so intense that hardly anyone was around to see them arrive. Stiff with cold and not as clearheaded as she would have liked for lack of sleep, Alambiel still mumbled the instruction, "Take them all to their quarters."

Three, no, four shapes appeared out of the swirling snow. One darted to the wagon where Peter and Edmund were being helped down (they had recovered just enough to walk short, _very_ short distances without too much aid). The shortest of the shapes followed and Alambiel recognized Tuulea. Then she turned to the other two, Leeta and Ardon, as they approached her. Ardon's gaze settled on Oreius then he glanced at her. "We should get him out of sight."

She nodded. "He would prefer it. Did we get in a skirmish with Calormen yet?"

"No, My Lady," Leeta answered as she slipped a supporting arm around her. "Their ship has been caught in a storm. It will delay them a little longer. Come, you need rest and food, My Lady."

"Yes, Child, you do," Tuulea chimed in as she bustled over. "I have sent the Kings to their own chambers. Alithia and Tanith are waiting for them and will bind their wounds." Her chatter slowed a moment as she looked under the blankets at Oreius then she briskly ordered, "Take him to the healers' wing at once."

Alambiel raised her head as alarm coursed through her. "No, Tuulea, you mustn't. Please." She pulled away from Leeta and moved between Tuulea and the litter. "Please, Tuulea. He will recuperate better in his own quarters. You know he's worse than the Kings combined when it comes to resting in the healers' wing, especially if it's going to be for more than a day or two."

As soon as Tuulea frowned, she knew the Black Elder Nymph would not give in easily. Alambiel glanced over her shoulder at the soldiers waiting for their orders to be clarified and then grabbed Tuulea's arm, pulling her away from the wagon and litter. She didn't stop until the only one nearby was Ardon (and he wouldn't bear any tales about what she said) then whispered, "I am aware of how bad it is, Tuulea. The travel hurt him and if it were anyone else, I would think the healers' wing the best place to go. But it's not anyone else. It's Oreius. And we have the Calormenes to think about. If they find out the General is laid up in the healers' wing, who knows what sort of mischief they'll get up to. That's without taking into account how badly the Kentauri will mess up his own healing process if he wakes up in the healers' wing. You know that it's going to be difficult to keep him still. It will be much better if he's in our quarters where I can keep an eye on him."

Snow turned Tuulea's black hair white and clung to her lashes as the storm gained strength and the wind howled through Cair Paravel. The Nymph didn't act as though she felt any of it. Then again Alambiel could barely feel it (of course, she was probably just slowly freezing to death). Her dark eyes were solemn as she studied her. "I am not so certain you do not need to be in the healers' wing yourself, Child."

"Tuulea, please." She wanted to explain further, to share how much it hurt her heart to see Oreius like this, but she couldn't. The words pressed for escape but she did not allow them. It was bad enough that her own weariness put her perilously close to tears from the sheer stress of it all but she could not break down in the middle of the courtyard even if it was partially deserted. Too many eyes watched and too many ears listened. She met the Black Elder Nymph's gaze and hoped the woman who had always been the closest thing she had to a mother and grandmother knew her well enough to see what she could not speak aloud.

Tuulea nodded once and then walked to the wagon and the litter. "Take the General to his quarters. Leeta, you know what to do. Alambiel, I shall expect to see you shortly."

Alambiel bowed her head slightly as the Nymph swept past, leading the Centaurs into the palace. Then she looked up at Ardon. "So, Susan remembered Blodeuwedd?"

He grinned. "She did." His grin faded as they followed the others. "How bad was it?"

"Almost as bad as Veri."

"But you brought them all home alive."

"By the grace of Aslan alone."

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Edmund grimaced and tried to get away from the cool hands touching his arm and forcing lances of pain to spear him. Wouldn't the Giants ever leave him alone? More hands settled on him, keeping him from moving away from the pain. He opened his eyes, a curse leaping to his lips, which died as soon as he realized there were three very concerned faces looking down at him. The grey-eyed, chocolate-haired Centauress murmured soothingly, "Be at ease, My King, I am nearly finished."

Edmund blinked. "Alithia?"

She nodded, a faint smile appearing, and then turned her full attention to the task of making him wish he could gnaw his arm off. The only distraction from the pain came when gentle fingers brushed back lank locks of hair. Susan smiled down at him and all Edmund could do was grab his sister's hand and hold it to his cheek as tears formed. "Home."

Susan laughed but tears shone bright in her own eyes as she nodded. "Yes, although you, Brother, promised to be home well over a week ago. And how foolish of you to taunt Ettins."

"Harfangers," he mumbled. "I taunted the Harfangers. The Ettins I was rude to when I remembered them. My face itches."

"That's because you need a bath." Susan wrinkled her nose as she tugged on a tuft of beard. "And a shave. Not to mention a haircut."

His valet nearly smiled before he refocused on holding him down when Alithia poked a particularly painful bruise. Of course, the Faun considered keeping Edmund dressed and groomed in a manner befitting a king of Narnia both a personal challenge and triumph. Edmund just groaned. "Bath and shave."

"When I have finished with you, my King, and not before."

"Yes, Alithia."

Susan was eying him with such concentration he feared he'd cursed before realizing where he was but then she patted his cheek again. "I'll go see that a hearty broth is prepared and I'll fix some of my chamomile tea too. Listen to Alithia and cooperate."

"Yes, Mum."

Everything was a bit of a daze after that. Susan stayed by him for hours and then Lucy came and chattered about all their sister had done while they were gone. But after a while the details began to blur and he didn't recall much other than grumbling that he didn't want to drink his dinner until the next time he woke. The Greyback brothers were snoring on either side of him, although Romulus was curled more against his leg as he tried to avoid Edmund's heavily bandaged right arm. Edmund smirked a little when the Wolves didn't stir as he drew his legs up and then carefully climbed out of bed. Some guards they were. His amusement vanished when his right leg threatened to buckle under him as a dull ache spread through his hip. He bit his lip to keep from making any sound. The last thing he needed was Remus to forget he was injured and jump on him in an attempt to find out why he was groaning.

The pain receded a bit and Edmund tentatively put more weight on his leg. It shook but he pushed through it as he limped out of his bedchamber. He stopped short in the sitting room. A man was sprawled in one of the chairs, his head tilted back awkwardly in sleep, his familiar profile illuminated by the flickering flames from the fire burning merrily in the hearth. Edmund shook his head then pulled the bedchamber door to before he limped over to the chair and poked the great lummox in the nose. "Wake up, Pevensie. This is my room you know."

Peter snorted then coughed as he straightened, blinking in utter befuddlement. "Huh? What? Oh, 's you, Ed."

"Of course, it's me. It's my room. Don't you know you're supposed to be in your room? Where your wife is?" Edmund groaned as he pressed his good hand against his ribs, feeling the heavy swathe of bandages beneath his nightshirt, and then carefully eased down onto the settee. "What are you doing in here?"

Peter yawned then shoved a hand through his tousled hair. "Couldn't sleep and I wanted to make sure you were okay, Eddie. Thalia told me you tried to bargain for my freedom by volunteering for . . . by volunteering to-"

"How did she know about that?"

"She was watching us and the Giants for a while. Gathering information." Peter looked away from him and his voice fell to a raspy whisper, "Oh Eddie, she heard me . . . She heard me say that I would turn a knife on myself before I allowed those vile women to violate my vows." He covered his face with his good hand and his broad shoulders shook, reminding Edmund of a Peter who had been much skinnier and very young when he took responsibility for their family (even him despite his being a poisonous little beast). But the problem then was the same as it was now. Peter never wanted the people he loved and who needed him to know that he wasn't always strong, that there were things even the High King and Knight of the Order of the Lion could not face. Peter always carried too much.

"She probably under-"

"She never should have heard me. She never should have been there. You never should have been there." Peter looked up, his eyes filled with torment and self-loathing, as he whispered, "You never should have even contemplated volunteering to do what the Giants wanted. I would not wish such a fate on my worst enemy, much less my own brother. We never should have been there. The soldiers-"

"It wasn't your fault," Edmund interrupted. He pursed his lips together to keep from snapping at his lummox of a brother. "Not one of our spies or scouts knew the Giants were still lingering in the area after the last attacks. We were all caught by surprise. And every soldier who joins the army knows the risks of military life. Even when we're at peace, we can't guarantee their safety. It's their choice to serve. You didn't force them into it."

His brother shook his head again. "No. But I am the one who insisted we go on the tour of the northern villages. I'm the one who insisted that you and Oreius should come with me, never mind the fact that we should have just stayed in Cair Paravel and got ready for the Calormene visit since the diplomatic stuff is even more complicated than usual. I'm the one who insisted that we didn't need extra soldiers. I'm the one who insisted that we press on to that last village. If we had changed just one thing, none of this would have happened."

"Well, it did happen," Edmund stated bluntly. "Honestly, Pevensie, you act like you are responsible for every bad thing that ever happens in Narnia. Kat says it's Murphy. I'm beginning to think you won't be happy until we replace Kat's Law of Murphy with a Law of Peter. If anything bad happens in Narnia or to a Narnian or somewhere in the vicinity of Peter Pevensie, it was Peter Pevensie's fault."

"Ed, you don't understand."

"I think I do." He glared at the fire, remembering every torment. "It was my spy network that failed to notice Giants creeping over the border after all. How do you bloody miss ten bloody Giants? It's not as though you can look at them and think they're a new species of daises."

Peter laughed then coughed and pressed a hand to his ribs (only on his left side). "Oh don't make me laugh, brother mine. Unless you intend to finish what the Giants started." He sobered suddenly then whispered, "Do you dream about it, Eddie?"

He swallowed hard, his throat seeming to have gone parch in an instant, as his mind flicked back to the suffocating dreams. He swallowed again then mumbled, "Can't breathe because they're pressing down. Smell them, hear them laughing while they pull you apart and when they smack me down like a useless doll after I yell at them to stop." He took a shuddering breath and blotted the sudden sweat from his upper lip with his sleeve. "I dream."

"It can't go on." Peter shoved up from the chair and then nearly toppled as he teetered to his left. Edmund grabbed his right hand and pulled hard but his brother didn't even seem to notice as he repeated with more urgency, "It can't go on, Eddie. It can't. I won't let it."

"Right now you can't afford to fall over, Pevensie. Sit down before you break something and then I'll get fussed at by Susan and Tuulea and Alithia _and_ Thalia since they are under the mistaken belief that I can influence your behavior." Edmund tugged until the blockhead sat on the settee next to him (at least that way he could sit on him if he tried to jump up again) then scowled. "No more leaping about like the Hares after they've had overripe carrot juice. Now what are you going on about? You can't go on blaming yourself for things you couldn't control? In that case, I agree. When you blame yourself for all the bad things in the world, it's very tiresome plus it's a tad conceited even for someone called 'the Magnificent.' The High King isn't supposed to have the biggest head in the land you know."

Peter scowled then a tiny smirk appeared. "I suppose you have a point."

"I have many points, you just don't recognize them."

"Ed." His big lummox of a brother gave a brittle laugh then sighed. He scrubbed his hand against his eyes, no doubt wiping away tears, the big softie. "I am supposed to take care of my family. I am supposed to take care of Narnia. All I have done is fail."

Edmund nudged him with his good arm. "Rather conceited of you. You may be the High King and the oldest but the girls and I also are charged with Narnia's care. That's why Susan stayed here and held the place together while coming up with a right clever way to keep that Calormene chap from arriving too soon. That's why Lucy and Kat and Thalia came charging after us. We're always stronger when we face the challenge together." He glanced at his brother who was staring morosely at the crackling fire again then added in the same tone, "And Thalia supposedly thinks you can actually cook, so there's hope for you yet, brother mine."

"I can cook." Peter started to get to his feet until he grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down again. His brother scowled at him then seemed to resign himself to the unspoken rebuke as he gingerly leaned against the settee's back. He fiddled with the edge of the bandage wrapped around his hand, plucking it enough that Edmund wouldn't have been surprised if the whole thing unraveled, and chewed on his lip. "This can't go on, though. This situation with the Giants, I mean. Blast it all, Edmund, too many innocents have suffered because I've been content with driving the Giants back over the border all these years. I won't stand for it any longer. There will be no more villages destroyed, innocents murdered and devoured, and no more annual or biannual raids and skirmishes by these Northern Giants. By Aslan, I won't have it. Narnia is strong enough now. Our army is disciplined enough. There is not a single reason I should not take the army, go north, and teach those rotters a lesson."

"Not a one aside from the blizzard outside, your injuries, my injuries, Oreius' injuries, oh, and the Calormenes due to arrive any day now."

His brother merely ignored him. "We'll call a council in the morn."

"Next month."

"Oreius would be glad of the opportunity to plan a campaign."

"I'm not sure Kat will let him."

"We should leave as soon as the spring thaw arrives."

"That one I can almost agree with."

"I just need to find out where my boots went."

"You're wearing fuzzy slippers and shuffling in your dotage."

"And my pants."

"The Leopard cubs or Thalia? They all seem to like your legs."

"And no more of this nonsense about broth."

"Pie or cake?"

"I'll need to write down as many names as I can remember then you can have your spies go north and see what the Giants are doing."

"Pie _and_ cake it is."

"Then we'll draw up an official proclamation of war. I want it to be very officious and official and stuff."

"You were drugged earlier, weren't you?"

Peter finally looked at him. "I don't think so. Although, I am getting a bit sleepy. But I should check on the girls and Oreius and Kat first."

Edmund got up when his brother did and grabbed his elbow. "Somehow I doubt Kat and Oreius would welcome a middle of the night visit from you, Pete. We want to avoid Kat stringing us up by our toes, remember? And if the girls catch you out of bed, you'll worry them and get fussed over while I get fussed at."

"Lucy wouldn't fuss at you. She's a badger."

Edmund snorted as he helped his brother limp out of his quarters and across the hall. "Susan would make up for it. Come on, you great lummox, let's get you to bed before that happens or you fall on your face."

"Not going to fall on my face, Eddie." Peter yawned then turned a weary, mournful look on him. "They hurt Babur, Ed. They crushed him."

Edmund tightened his grip on Peter's elbow. "Babur's all right now, Pete, don't think about it. Think about what you're going to give Thalia for Christmas." He glanced up as his sister-in-law opened the door to her and Peter's quarters then continued, "And no food poisoning. Or badly written poetry."

"Thalia likes my cooking and my poetry too." Peter finally noticed his wife and gave her a goofy smile. "Hello, Flower."

She acted as if it wasn't the first time he had dragged Peter home to her drunk with remorse and pain (and likely a sedative of some type) but then again it wasn't. Thalia smiled gently with not even a hint of alarm showing although she glanced at him warily once when Peter wasn't looking. She came close and kissed Peter on the lips. Edmund grimaced. "That could have waited until I wasn't holding him up, Thalia."

Thalia ducked her head, her nut-brown hair sweeping forward to hide her newly pinked cheeks. "Forgive me."

"I didn't mind," Peter mused. "I quite liked it. Makes me feel better. Perhaps another kiss will cure me."

Edmund rolled his eyes while his sister-in-law pressed a hand to her mouth in an obvious endeavor not to laugh at Peter's pitiful attempt to be suave and dashing. He cast her a warning look. "I'll thank you not to do any such thing until I have deposited this nitwit and left." He gave a little grunt when Peter suddenly stepped to the right, trying to change course toward Thalia and tromping across his feet as he did so. "Peter! This is not the time, you ninny. Thalia, just go ahead of us since he's gotten it in his head to follow you around."

As his sister-in-law obeyed the command, Peter leaned against him and whispered loudly, "She's pretty, don't you think? I should ask her to dance sometime."

"What did they put in your water?"

Peter frowned, his brow furrowed as he focused on the question, then he brightened. "It tasted different. Do you think she'll dance with me? I'd like that."

He didn't answer as he helped his brother limp into the bedchamber and over to the bed as Thalia finished turning down the covers. Peter grinned idiotically at her as he sat on the edge of the mattress. "Hello. Have we met before? I just think you're the most beautiful creature I've seen walk this earth. May I join you on a walk?"

Thalia looked over at Edmund and he shrugged, fighting back a grin. "I don't know what they put in his water."

"They said it would help him relax."

Edmund glanced at where his brother was trying to casually grab Thalia's hand. "It worked."

Peter snagged her fingers just then and smiled. "Hello. Would you like to dance? I'm afraid it will have to be tomorrow though. Everyone seems to have gone to bed."

His sister-in-law slipped her fingers through Peter's and then bent to whisper in his ear. Whatever she said put an even more idiotic grin on his brother's face as he gazed up at her. "Ed?"

"Yes?"

"I have a wife, Ed."

"Yes."

"Go away."

Edmund snorted then mockingly offered a half-bow. "Gladly, brother mine, gladly. Take care of him, Thalia."

She smiled at him as she lowered her hands to help Peter shrug out of his robe. "You have done your part, Sire. I shall not fail in mine either."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! I'm not sure what the healers put in Peter's water but it was funny. ;) Nearing the end now, only three chapters left. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two: Oreius

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Oreius

 _"_ _Come now, Kentauri, is that the best you can do?"_

 _He fought hard against giving into a smile at the troublemaking minx's taunts. Instead, he raised his swords in silent challenge then growled, "Cease your flitting about and you will find out what else I can do."_

 _She laughed, blue eyes dancing with bright mischief. "Oh I'm shaking in my boots. I'm starting to think you're all talk, though. What are you going to do about that?"_

 _He reared then leapt forward, sweeping both swords down. She jumped up and to the right then lunged, swiping at his unprotected torso. He wheeled to face her, swords clashing against her twin knives, stopping her forward momentum with ease. His mouth twitched into half a grin as he locked their blades then he slowly stepped forward. Her eyes widened slightly and she frowned at him. "Not fair!"_

 _A chuckle escaped but he didn't answer. Instead, he continued to slowly force her to back up. Their blades wavered once when she tried to push back but he didn't let up enough to allow her to either disengage or to push the blades toward him. She muttered, "You are going to pay for this."_

 _"_ _You began it. I merely finish it."_

 _She looked up at that, a calculating gleam appearing in her eyes. "Oh really? You think so?"_

 _She surprised him. He had to admit that she surprised him when she suddenly collapsed, her knives slipping free as she did so. She leapt forward and he had to give ground, backing away as she popped back up. Their blades clashed then she whirled away, graceful as any dancer, before she darted in again. He blocked her blow with more force than earlier in this game. One of her knives was knocked from her grip but she did not break off her attack. If anything, she became fiercer as she leapt and darted beneath his guard before whirling away whenever he blocked her strikes. He dropped one of his swords as she came near for another attack, aiming for his torso again, and grabbed her arm, turning the knife aside as he yanked her against him. Bringing up his own sword, he brought it to rest against her back and neck. "Yield."_

 _"_ _You first," she retorted. She moved her free hand and he felt the cool kiss of steel pressing against the bare flesh of his ribs._

 _He glanced down at her hand and then back into her eyes. Triumph shone there. No longer able to resist, he bent his head and stole a kiss, which he didn't break until she dropped the knife. He grinned. "I think we may consider it a draw."_

 _Alambiel laughed. "It's always a draw. Unless you cheat."_

 _"_ _Or you."_

 _"_ _I never cheat, Oreius."_

 _He raised an eyebrow at that. "No?"_

 _"_ _No. I only ever improvise."_

 _"_ _Ah I see. Then this is also not cheating." He grasped her about the waist and then threw her into the lake . . ._

 _"_ _That is cheating. Put it back."_

 _Alambiel glanced at him then slowly returned the chess piece to its proper place. "I'm surprised you noticed. You've been paying attention to your paperwork all evening."_

 _He lowered the report slightly then reached over to move a knight. "I have not been ignoring you. Check."_

 _"_ _All right then what did I tell you ten minutes ago?"_

 _He needed to finish reading the reports. Perhaps he should allow her to win the game._

 _"_ _Oreius!"_

 _He grunted when a small pillow smacked him in the face. Setting the report down, he turned considering eyes to his minx of a wife. She looked entirely unrepentant as she boldly returned his gaze. "You were thinking about how to get me to leave you alone so you can be with your paperwork."_

 _"_ _Nonsense. I merely need to finish reading these reports and then compile my own assessment of the situation."_

 _She gave him a skeptical look. "And just how long will that take?"_

 _"_ _No more than three or four hours."_

 _"_ _I see." Her attention shifted to the chessboard then she reached out and knocked his king over. "Checkmate. Go back to your reports, Kentauri. You listen better when you're not captivated by your paperwork."_

 _He frowned as she got up and pulled on her boots then retreated into their bedchamber for several moments before returning with one of her heavy cloaks. "Where are you going?"_

 _"_ _Outside to build a snow fort and then stockpile snowballs until I decide who will suffer the pelting." Her reply was cheerful enough but he knew her better than that. She fastened the cloak at her throat and then tugged her gloves on as she added, "It's two days until Christmas, Oreius. See if you can find some Yuletide spirit, hmm? Because you are far too serious, love."_

 _He watched her leave then gathered his papers and carried them into their shared study. He tried to focus but it was even more difficult now. With a sigh, he finally closed the report after reading the same page for the twentieth time and still not recalling what he'd read. He rubbed the bridge of his nose then went to the window. Thick snow was falling, covering the land and limiting his view. Alambiel was out there somewhere. He glanced over his shoulder at the desk covered with various reports that required his attention, however . . . However, it was only two days until Christmas. None of the reports were of such a pressing nature that he could not finish them after the holiday._

 _His mind made up, he left at a brisk pace. The snow was half-blinding when he left the shelter of the palace. Now where had his wife gone?_

 _Working his way from the gardens, he finally spied the little minx in a snow fort she had built atop one of the smaller hills that overlooked the barracks and training grounds. It seemed she was planning to harass his soldiers . . . again._

 _She never realized he was there until she yelped as his snowball hit her squarely between the shoulders. She whirled around to face him, some of her golden hair escaping from the shelter of her hood. The look of amused annoyance changed to one of delight and then she turned and leapt into her snow fort. He bent down, scooping up more snow and patting it into a ball as he waited for the minx to reappear. She popped up, threw a snowball, and he threw his just before hers smacked into his chest. He galloped toward her fort, dodging most of Alambiel's attempts to fend him off. His steps slowed as he circled around the fort. He watched her stand up again, her back to him as she searched the snowdrifts, and then he leapt into the fort, snatching up two of her snowballs as he did so, and then pelted her with one. She spun around in time for the next snowball to hit her in the face._

 _He let out another laugh as she staggered back only to trip over the fort's wall and slide down the hill. Reaching her, he gently brushed the snow away from her eyes and then grinned. "I win."_

 _"_ _Not yet." Alambiel grabbed a handful of snow and promptly shoved it in his face . . ._

 _"_ _Oreius, you have to wake up."_

 _He opened his eyes and the smallest sigh of relief escaped him as he took in the familiar sight of Cair Paravel. The lights of torches and lanterns gleamed in the summer night. Thank Aslan, he was home again. The patrol had taken longer than he had expected and it was already Midsummer's Eve. He could see people dancing around the large bonfire that had been built on the beach but he did not see the one he was most interested in finding. The Kings and Queens were there, of course. The High King dancing with his wife while King Edmund was content to sit at one of the tables playing a drinking game with several Black and Red Dwarfs. Queen Lucy was teaching Tarrin Peridanson the steps to a dance while her sister conversed with several Nereids and Naiads. But still he did not see her._

 _She must have grown bored. He would not find her among the revelers in that case. Most likely she would have retreated to their garden. However, he found her sooner than expected. Seated on a bench across from one of the fountains in the maze, she made a very pretty picture. Her hair shone beneath the light of a nearby torch and the flames were reflected on her golden crown. Her sea-green dress left her shoulders bare and the silk fabric was covered in silver beads although the sheer sleeves were free of adornment._

 _He bowed low as he rumbled, "Princess."_

 _There was a pause and he watched her profile turn toward him for an instant before she turned away again. But, there was a smile in her voice as she murmured, "I don't care to be called that."_

 _"_ _Perhaps you would prefer enchanting or goddess or beloved."_

 _"_ _You're rather forward, aren't you?" She glanced back at him and he caught a glimpse of her smile. "I have a husband. He probably wouldn't appreciate your flattery."_

 _"_ _I am not attempting to flatter him." He came closer and added thoughtfully, "He does not deserve it considering he has been so neglectful that you sit here alone on a night meant for celebration."_

 _"_ _He has his reasons for being away. However, I have heard a rumor that he is to return at any moment. Therefore, you should probably go away before he catches you with me."_

 _"_ _You think he would be suspicious of you?"_

 _She laughed softly. "Of course not, but he can irrationally protective sometimes."_

 _"_ _I doubt it is irrational, merely very intent." He leaned down and breathed warm in her ear, "And I do not think he would mind if we danced."_

 _"_ _Just danced?" came the soft query._

 _He slid his fingers along her jaw until he could curl them around her chin. He gently pressed until she turned her face toward him. Smiling at her, he leaned in close until their mouths were almost touching then whispered, "You would have a very foolish husband indeed if we only danced, my Bird of Paradise." Then he captured her mouth in a kiss._

 _She was smiling and her eyes shone when he finally broke away. "Ah, so we do know each other."_

 _He arched an eyebrow. "Do you know me only by my kisses?"_

 _"_ _Hmmm, I'm not sure. Kiss me again."_

 _Silent laughter shook him but still he obeyed her command. But something changed. He tasted salt and felt drops of moisture on his skin. "Alambiel?"_

 _She still sat before him but now tears streamed down her cheeks. "Oreius. Oreius, please wake up."_

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 _Oreius . . ._

He could feel a gentle touch against his cheek as he dreamed of Alambiel calling his name again. Then he felt her lift his hand and press it against her heartbeat. He frowned, realizing she was afraid or upset, as her heartbeat was no longer steady; instead, it pounded rapidly, almost too fast for any emotion save panic to explain it. He could hear her call again, "Oreius, my Chuisle, wake up. Please, please, please wake up."

He shifted, trying to reach out to her but then the dream vanished as agonizing pain lanced through his body. He gasped and his awareness of his wife faded again. For a moment, he thought he saw her but he knew better. The injuries from his battle with the Giants had been severe, too severe. He was only hallucinating again. He grimaced then a low moan escaped. "Gone. Sorry. See you . . . in His Country. For- Forgive me."

Out of the pain, he heard her voice again. "Oreius. Oreius, shh, no, I'm here. I'm here, I promise." He imagined he felt her press a kiss to his brow then hot tears decorated his skin. She was crying. He hated it when she cried and it was a thousand times worse when he was the cause. He felt her lift his hand again and squeezed her fingers. "Oreius?"

He squeezed again and murmured, "Don't cry."

There was a sob of relief and then a sudden weight landed on his neck making him groan as he opened his eyes. The weight vanished and he saw her. She was leaning over him, her face pale with dark bruises beneath her eyes, which were shimmering with tears, and her white and gold hair fell in tousled, unbrushed waves around her shoulders and down her back. The realization struck him hard as he stared at her. This was no dream. It was no memory. He swallowed, his throat aching and parched, but still he rasped, "Alambiel."

She sniffled and then offered a tremulous smile as her hands cradled his face, fingers gently petting. "Yes." Her gaze searched his and then she gave a little watery laugh. "Oreius, I was so afraid I'd lost you. We were getting ready to give you the cordial."

Oreius frowned, trying to remember what had happened but all he could recall was those final moments from the battle when he heard her cry out before the waves of pain gave away to unconsciousness. He didn't think they were still in the north, though. Winter had been coming. He coughed then mumbled, "Where?"

"We're home, Kentauri." She pressed a cool cup to his lips and murmured, "Here, drink this. It will help ease your thirst, at least." He raised his left hand and wrapped it around her wrist, holding the cup in place as he drank. Alambiel was watching him with concern written plainly across her face as she worried at her bottom lip. "We're in our quarters. I persuaded Tuulea that you would recuperate better here than in the healers' wing." She took the cup away and then pressed a hand against his shoulder, keeping him from sitting up with laughable ease. "No, don't try to move yet. You're still broken."

He blinked as he echoed, "Broken?"

She nodded, a stern glint appearing in her blue eyes, as she repeated tersely, "Very broken. You, sir, have allowed those bloody Ettins to break or crack over ten ribs. You're lucky you have two sets, by the way. You have a concussion along with a dislocated shoulder. And your right foreleg is broken. It took us four days to get here and then you didn't react well to the travel. You have a long recovery period to look forward to before you'll be allowed to get up or even do paperwork." Alambiel paused and then said with a deadly softness, "Don't you ever scare me like that again."

None of what she said much sense in that moment other than the fact that he had worried her to the point that she was acting like a healer. His brow furrowed as he asked, "How did you bring me back?"

"Litter and then wagon."

His colts. Morfran had attacked his colts. "The Kings-"

"Are safe and in better shape than you." Alambiel looked away and muttered, "I should let Leeta know to inform Tuulea and Alithia that you're awake."

He grasped her hand and whispered, "No."

"Oreius, you need-"

"You." He squeezed her hand then lifted it so he could press a kiss to her fingers before he murmured fervently, "I need you to stay. With me. Stay with me." She started to withdraw her fingers but then she hesitated. Seizing on her indecision, he cleared his throat then whispered hoarsely, "Please, sweet."

Hope flared when she rubbed her thumb over his fingers only to wilt when she pulled away. She stared down at him and then sighed before she pulled the coverlet back and climbed into bed, lying down next to him. He stretched his uninjured arm out and tried to tug her a little closer, wanting to hold her, but she gave him a chiding look. "This is as good as it gets until your ribs heal."

A sigh escaped him before his ribs protested with a flash of pain and he groaned. Alambiel rolled onto her side and shifted a little closer as she laced her fingers through his. "Relax, Chuisle. I'm not going anywhere and you aren't either." She pressed her free hand against his shoulder as she whispered, "Relax."

It was almost impossible to ignore her, especially when she began to hum. Oreius felt himself begin to relax even as he kept a hold of his wife's hand. He turned his head when Alambiel's other hand slipped free of his shoulder. She tucked her forearm beneath her cheek and gave him a little smile as she kept humming. His gaze drifted from her face to the familiar trappings of their bedchamber then back to her. Her eyes were half-closed now. They were home, they were safe. He could rest.

He allowed his eyes to drift close but still clung to her hand, unwilling to lose the reminder that Alambiel was truly beside him again. That she was not another hallucination. The last hallucination had been heavy with child . . . "Alambiel?"

The humming stopped and he could feel the tension in her fingers as a touch of worry entered her voice, "Is the pain worse? What do you need?"

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze in an attempt to reassure her. "No." He opened his eyes, gazing up at the ceiling, and continued in a very soft tone, "We need to discuss foals."

The pause lasted an uncomfortably long time and the fear bloomed that he was pressing her too soon. He continued staring at the ceiling instead of looking at her, wanting to give her the time she needed. Then he felt her shift a little closer and press a light kiss to his cheek. "As you wish. Now got to sleep, Oreius." She pressed another kiss to his cheek. "You're home. Now you can rest."

At least she had not told him no. He still didn't know if she was already carrying a little foal but it was time for them to discuss their herd and having foals again. He glanced up again and frowned. "Alambiel, did you paint the ceiling?"

She snickered. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Mainly because you weren't here to stop me." She squeezed his hand. "Now go to sleep."

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Alambiel breathed a sigh of relief when the Kentauri finally fell asleep. Moving carefully so she didn't wake him or jostle his injuries, she slipped from the bed just as the doors opened and Leeta peeked in. The Nymph's black eyes went to Oreius' still form then focused on her. "How is he?"

"He woke up." Alambiel smoothed the coverlet back over him and pressed a kiss to his brow. Straightening, she rubbed the back of her neck as she repeated, "He woke up, Leeta, and he finally noticed that I painted the ceiling."

"Why _did_ you paint the ceiling, My Lady?"

"To see how long it would take him to notice." She smiled a little. "Although, I don't think he really registered the fact that I told him he was going to have a long recovery. Would you let Tuulea know?"

"Of course, My Lady. Shall I bring back supper for you and the General?"

She almost said no but then she checked herself. "Is there another banquet?"

"Yes, My Lady. The Gentle said that your presence would not be required tonight either. The Four will be very glad to learn that the General is showing signs of improvement." Leeta walked around her to the wardrobe and pulled out a plain but sumptuous velvet gown of rich midnight blue.

Alambiel stared at her. "Leeta? What is that for? I'm not going to the banquet."

"Of course not. You would have to wear a far different gown to the banquet, My Lady. This is for you to change into after you've finished with your bath. The General will appreciate it."

"The bath or the dress?"

"Both, My Lady."

"Thanks, Leeta."

"You're welcome, Your Highness."

Alambiel pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did sarcasm get ignored so often? It made things difficult for her. "Leeta, I think I can wear some other dress, like the brown one, without worry."

The Nymph put her hands on her hips. "You cannot think that the General would appreciate that dress over this one, My Lady."

"I don't think he notices as much as you think he does. And Oreius and I don't actually have a relationship that's like other couples."

Leeta sniffed. "I do not think that your relationship with your husband is as different in this particular matter from other married couples as you would have me believe."

"I have a retort for that. I'm just not going to say it right now. Go get Tuulea." She walked into the bath muttering under her breath about the trials of having a lady-in-waiting who would dare to play the husband card. Fortunately for the uppity Nymph, she decided it would disturb Oreius too much if she acknowledged the fact that she had heard Leeta snickering when she left.

By the time she emerged, wrapped in a thick robe and still drying her hair with a towel, Tuulea had finished changing Oreius' bandages and was sitting in a chair, waiting for her. Alambiel immediately scanned the Kentauri's face. "Did he wake up?"

"No, but I'm told he did earlier. How awake was he?"

"Enough that he noticed the ceiling and asked a question he wouldn't have if he hadn't been alert to some degree." Alambiel sat on the bench in front of her dressing table and picked up the brush. She let the towel she'd been using on her hair fall into her lap. "He should be out of danger now."

Tuulea didn't answer right away. "I do not think that he will need the cordial since he has finally woken. However, if you allow him to become too agitated or if he tries to do too much too soon, he would do poorly. Keep him calm, no matter how difficult your conversations might become."

She glanced at the older woman, wondering how much she had guessed, but only nodded. "I'll take care of him, Tuulea."

"You always do. Leeta should return with your supper in an hour. It would be good for you to wake him if he is not already awake then."

"Yes, Tuulea."

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"Oreius, it's not a big deal. Eat your soup."

The Kentauri clenched his jaw. He did not say a word, just clenched his jaw. Alambiel rolled her eyes and then carefully edged closer to him so she wouldn't spill the steaming bowl of soup everywhere. "Look, you are broke. You are also right-handed even if you do use two swords. You can't move your right arm at all if you don't want to mess it up permanently and you can't sit up because of your ribs. You know you don't have a choice right now. Stop being so stubborn. It's not like this is the first time I've fed you something either. Usually you don't mind."

He glared at her. "You were not treating me as an invalid then."

"You are an invalid." She held the spoon to his mouth. He turned his head away. "Would you prefer I summon one of the junior healers to tend you, Husband? If my care is too humiliating to be borne . . ."

"Drugged."

"It is not, O Paranoid Holder of My Heart."

He glanced at her, just a hint of amusement briefly flickering into his dark eyes, and then grumbled, "I am not paranoid."

She laughed. "But you would be more comfortable if I tried some of your soup first." Without waiting for his reluctant reply, she sampled the spoonful. "Mmm, not bad. You should like it." She waited for him to open his mouth to say something and promptly spooned it in. "See?"

Oreius glared but swallowed. "Too much broth, not enough meat."

"I'll make a note of that but soup consistency is currently Tuulea's domain and whatever she says goes." She raised the spoon again. "Right now, Tuulea says this is what you can handle. All you have to decide is whether you're going to be cooperative or I can tell Tuulea I was wrong and you will be moved to the healers' wing."

"I am hungry."

And that was grumpy Centaur speak for he didn't want to be moved. She ducked her head and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as she fed him more of the too-thin broth. He was lucky it had any meat at all. Of course, he didn't last long. He had barely eaten half a bowl's worth when his eyes closed. She had just put the bowl on the table next to the bed when he opened them again. He scowled at her as best he could with his eyelids drooping. "Drugged."

"No, Chuisle, you're just tired." She smiled a little as he fell asleep before she even finished speaking. "Can't wait for the conversation we have when you're awake enough to realize just how long you're going to be on bed rest."

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It was an intolerable way of living. Days of sleeping then waking long enough to register the pain and sometimes speak to his wife before being unable to do anything else except sleep. He also couldn't remember the last time he had woken to an empty bedchamber. "Alambiel?"

There was no response to his raspy call, not even Leeta or one of the healers sticking their heads in to ask what he needed. It seemed he had been truly left alone. Oreius slowly propped himself up on his left arm. The dull ache in his ribs intensified but it was worth being able to do something other than lie still. He still couldn't move his other arm or his right foreleg but being somewhat upright helped.

"What part of lie still is so difficult for you to comprehend?" Oreius looked up to see Alambiel in the doorway. She frowned at him as she crossed to her dressing table and took off her crown. "Honestly, you do know better."

"Where did you go? I thought the Four have been releasing you from your duties."

"They have but I thought I should go to Edmund's birthday party. Long enough to make an appearance anyway." She came over to him. "If I prop you up with the pillows, do you promise not to try to move? Broken ribs, remember."

He nodded. Anything to break the monotony and the sense of helplessness being on bed rest invoked. Although, he didn't recall having as many pillows as Alambiel used to prop him up. "It is King Edmund's birthday?"

"No. This was just the belated celebration. We're a week into Stormfall now." She touched his cheek lightly. "Want a shave?"

"You don't want me to grow out my beard?"

"Umm, no." She disappeared into the bath then returned with his shaving kit.

"Alambiel, how long was I unconscious?"

"Nine days. Not counting the four days it took to bring you home."

He stopped talking when she set the razor to his skin. Mulling over everything, he could not help wondering about the one subject he most wanted to discuss with his wife. Alambiel glanced into his eyes and shook her head. "If you had died, I would have been alone." She moved the razor to his other cheek. "And that Rabid Radish is up to something. He's been far too polite and courteous by half. He's too . . . too perfect. Not one son of the Tisroc has been outside his influence long enough to not think of Narnia with anything less than avarice and malice. Oh and he's been extended an invitation through spring because of the weather."

"I am certain the Four are on guard against any mischief Prince _Rabadash_ might be planning, Wife."

"I know his name, Kentauri. I just choose not to use it."

That was typical of his Alambiel, although he chose not to say so. She still held the razor, after all. He reached up to run a hand over his now-smooth cheeks then checked his proper beard. Still there. Alambiel raised an eyebrow, just a hint of laughter lurking in her blue eyes. "Satisfactory?"

"Very." He didn't say anything else until she had put everything away and then clambered back onto the bed. Reaching out, he wrapped his left arm around her waist and pulled her close before bussing her cheek. "We still need to talk, Sweet."

"I know you want to."

Her tone was far too soft and she was avoiding meeting his gaze. Oreius tightened his grip, ignoring the pressure it put on his ribs. "I think it is time we have this conversation, Alambiel. It has been over two years."

She paled a little but nodded. "I know. However, you are going to have to ease your grip or we're not going to have this conversation until your ribs are completely healed." She wriggled free of his hold but, thankfully, stayed close as she leaned against the pillows and slipped her hand into his. She still wasn't quite meeting his gaze. "All right, all right, where do you want to start?"

"Do you still want foals?"

"Yes." Alambiel took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. "Yes, I want foals but what if it happens again? What if it happens every time? Maybe I just can't carry a foal long enough."

"You do not know that it will. There is no reason to think that is the case. We were promised foals."

"Technically, you were the only one promised foals. No comment on whether I'm the one who gives them to you."

"Alambiel." He slipped his hand free of hers and cupped her chin. "Do you truly think I would marry another? I have faith that we will have foals, love. What I need to know is whether you desire for our herd to grow in the next year or so. We can wait as long as you wish but I need to know when you will be comfortable dreaming of that day again."

"It's not that easy, Oreius. You scared me a lot with this Giants situation. You used the promise of foals to give yourself permission to be suicidal." Alambiel pulled away from him, her eyes flashing with temper, and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You decided that I was pregnant because you were going to die and then you turned suicidal. I cannot and will not tolerate such stupid behavior from you, especially you wouldn't tolerate from anyone else. And if I were pregnant, I still wouldn't approve of your recent trend in poor decisions because I don't want to raise a baby alone. I don't want any child of ours to have the same experience we did where we lost our parents early. I want my children to know their father. I want you to know them. I do not want them to know you only as a sword hanging above the mantle and a painting of your likeness. And by the way, you told me you were promised many foals. Just having one baby or a set of twins does not count as 'many'. I'm not going to agree to trying for another foal if you're just going to lose your mind and all sense of self-preservation as soon as I tell you that I'm pregnant. You can't do that to me again. It breaks my heart and I don't want that life."

He should have known that had been troubling her. "I- I have no defense for my actions, Alambiel."

"I know."

"Alambiel."

"My apologies, please continue."

Oreius slid his fingers over her wrist, tugging her hand close enough that he could press kisses to the tips of her fingers, her palm, and then the inside of her wrist. "Alambiel, I have no defense for my actions save for the fact that I did believe we had very few choices. The Ettins had already attempted to eat the colts. If the Harfangers lost control of the camp, they would have been tortured and then consumed. I wanted to prevent that from occurring. It is true that I took comfort from the promise of foals but it was never my intent to hurt you. I want to be there for you and for any foals we are blessed with for many years to come. However, I cannot refuse to fulfill my martial duties. When there is war, I must go. If there is a battle, at times I will be at the disadvantage yet I cannot refuse to fight in such a situation even if it appears to be hopeless."

"I know you are the General. I would never ask you to stop being and acting like a warrior. All I am asking is that you never treat your own life as having so little value again, as though you will not be needed. You will always be needed, Oreius. I want more than four or five years together. I want a lot more than that. I want you to see our foals grow up and I want you to see their foals." She placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb tracing patterns over his skin. "I want to have that life and I want to know that you will do everything in your power to come home again whenever you fight without me by your side. I don't want to have to worry that my husband will decide that he doesn't need to come home because he left a family behind. Can you promise me that much?"

"I cannot promise that I will return from every battle. There might come a day when I do not. However-" He pulled her closer then ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying the feel of the silky locks and wishing he could hold her properly. Oreius cleared his throat then continued, "However, I promise you that I will not resign myself to such a fate. I will always fight to come back to you. And, I will not rest until I explore all possible plans to find one that will allow me to return to you."

Alambiel gave him a small smile. "I can accept that promise."

"Am I forgiven?"

"For the most part. You still have to make up for being stubborn and foolish and scaring me twice, but I've forgiven you for choosing a moronic plan."

He chuckled then groaned. "How much longer before I may get up?"

"You'll be lucky if you're up and about by Christmas."

"And trying for foals?"

"That will take a while too. You're still broke."

"Alambiel."

She gave him a mischievous grin. "I am willing to try again, Kentauri. When you are healed."

Oreius tugged gently on a lock of hair, winning a slight laugh from his beloved. "It will be all right."

"You just worry about behaving yourself or you won't get to even hold a report until spring. Maybe your birthday if I'm feeling extremely gracious."

"Yes, Wife."

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! All right, so there's only one more chapter left in this story. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	23. Epilogue: To He Who Waits

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: There's danger in the north. Giants hunt for Narnia's Kings and General. Who will survive when hope is eclipsed?

A/N: If you have not read the first nine stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc ( _Awakened, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, and Unveiled_ ), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Epilogue: To He Who Waits . . .

24 Yule 1013

Edmund stood a little behind Peter, trying not to make eye contact with Oreius. Remus had taken his task of delivering a message with far too much enthusiasm and bounced on the bed, which scared the Leopard cubs who had taken to keeping Oreius company (Kat had something to do with it) into climbing over the Centaur. Suffice it to say, Oreius' injuries were no longer as far along in the mending process as they had been and Remus had been banned from acting as Edmund's messenger . . . again.

Peter, of course, acted as if this hadn't happened only a sennight ago. Instead, his brother remained focused on his list. "I think we should call a war council, General. However, there are some details I feel are already settled due to Prince Rabadash's presence in Cair Paravel. Edmund and the girls will be remaining in Narnia. I don't want a repeat of what happened. We should also leave part of the army behind."

"We will need two-thirds of the army if we are to truly put an end to the Northern Giants' mischief, My King."

"Agreed. You'll decide which of the officers go north. Although, I suppose it's safe to say that Kat will also come along."

The Centaur arched an eyebrow then gave a curt nod. "Unless something changes." His gaze fastened on Edmund just then and he added, "The Greybacks' presence in the war council would be unwise, Your Majesty."

"I agree." Edmund cleared his throat. "How is your shoulder?"

"Mending. Slowly." Oreius returned his attention to Peter. "However, I shall be ready to participate in the war council before long. Perhaps another fortnight or so."

That was not what Kat had told them when Peter mentioned the war council earlier. Edmund cleared his throat. "Where is Kat? Peter only received permission to visit because he told her this was about holiday greetings."

His brother looked at him then quickly turned to Oreius with a grin. "Yes, we're also here to wish you a merry Christmas, General."

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Alambiel leaned her forearms on the railing and clasped her hands together as she watched the proud Calormene prince stand beside Susan as she greeted the Archenlandish envoy. Every move the Rabid Radish made was poised, calm, and collected and it rubbed her the wrong way. She didn't like him. He ignored her as much as he thought he could get away with but though he never spoke an impolite word to her (which was different from previous encounters with Calormene ambassadors and princes), there was still something that rang false about him. He was too perfect.

He was going to cause trouble. She was certain of it. She just wasn't sure about how much trouble he was going to cause.

"Kat!"

"Lucy." She smiled as she accepted the younger queen's hug. "News?"

Lucy grinned widely, dimples appearing as she did so. "Oh yes! Dear King Lune accepted Peter's suggestion that Corin study diplomacy under Edmund's tutelage for the next Narnian year. Corin is to arrive in a fortnight. Isn't that wonderful?"

Alambiel snickered, already imagining the look on Oreius' face when he found out Corin was going to be in Cair Paravel for a year and a half. "Absolutely delightful. Oreius is going to be thanking Aslan that he only has one Corin to deal with."

"And Peridan's twins."

"Oh yes, we can't forget them." Oreius was going to have a fit. "This next year is going to be very interesting, I think."

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The throne room of Harfang was lit with torches and the huge fireplace burned bright. All this light to drive away the ghosts and warm the body yet it did nothing to melt the ice coating the three corpses that had been laid out before the thrones. Morrigan stared down at the bodies of three of her children. Yet she did not mourn. She only cursed the Narnians who had destroyed the one who would have been queen after her. She had had two more daughters and one son with Borak but they were young. Too young for her to begin grooming the smartest of them to take the throne and to teach the daughters how to choose men easily manipulated to their will. Fea had been the brightest of her children, brighter even than Morfran. Now both were dead.

Morrigan rose from her throne and the chains and bones she'd embroidered across her gown rattled with every step she took. She paced around the bodies of her fallen children. Then she took up the war spear and held it out to Borak. "Avenge them."

He looked from her to the dead ones. "How?"

"By raising your army. By conquering Narnia. Take up the war spear and summon your kin."

"It is winter."

"Summon your kin to the warmth of Harfang. Make them grateful that you have cared for them in the winter. Fill their ears with the tales of Narnia's riches. And then in the spring they will be eager to go into battle."

Finally her son's small eyes lit with understanding and he nodded as he took the war spear from her hand. "I will." He raised the spear over his head and shouted, "We will not rest until Narnia is ours!"

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 **A/N: Please Read and Review! Well, here we are again. Thank you everyone who has taken the time to read, follow, favorite, and review this story. A very special thank you to WillowDryad for letting me once again borrow her Tigers, Bast and Babur, even though I was very mean to Babur. :) The next long story will be _A Light in the Darkness: Obscured_. So keep an eye out for it! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this chapter and this story.**


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